


Star Dust

by thegirlwhowearsthedirtyshirt



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, BDSM, Character Death, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, OC, Rimming, Slavery, hurt!pythagoras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3080960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhowearsthedirtyshirt/pseuds/thegirlwhowearsthedirtyshirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping slave traders at a terrible price, Jason must team up with the one person he trusts the least to make it back to Atlantis. But after a terrible betrayal and a witch’s magic to escape from, it is Hercules and Ariadne that must defeat a witch, rescue their friends and save Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after ‘The Grey Sisters’ (season 2 episode 6) when Jason has met Medea but hasn’t married Ariadne yet.

“Remember this: Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny.”  
― Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

Part 1

Chapter 1

Jason walked in the line with the others. His feet hurt, he knew he was dehydrated and all his muscles ached. But for all the pain and discomfort that he was feeling he knew that Pythagoras was feeling one hundred times worse. He knew that the younger man being kept standing behind him by the chains on his feet and chains around his hands was only just holding onto consciousness by the jolting movements of the slow march they were part of. He knew it was only time until the younger man lost the thin veil of consciousness and collapsed forward onto the sand taking himself and the man behind Pythagoras to the floor and earning five lashes a piece from their captors. Not that Pythagoras would be able to feel it, mused Jason; His back was so torn with thin lashes and bruised with the hits from the bat one of the viscous slavers carried, any feeling was impossible. Jason raised his eyes and looked into the distance and to the hazy line of the town he had landed in all those months ago. He couldn’t believe that he was to return to the city he had made his home in chains.

Atlantis shined in the distance and Jason’s thoughts turned to the princess of the city and whether she would help him, of whether Hercules had escaped and had not been killed in the attempt and of course whether Pythagoras would be able to make the last few miles home.

Jason wished he knew how much time had passed since the simple trip he, Pythagoras and Hercules had taken. That fateful trip that would have them in this desperate situation hadn’t been extraordinary. It had been a simple movement of cargo from one of the Greco-cities and it shouldn’t have taken that long. Pythagoras had protested about going saying that it was ridiculous for all of them to go. But like always the mathematician came along, worrying about Hercules and his bad habits. The trip was going well until they were ambushed. Jason could remember Pythagoras scream, men surrounded them and brandishing swords running at them. Hercules had pushed Pythagoras behind him and rushed for the nearest man, yelling and fighting. Another man had grabbed the smaller man and pulled him to his knees, sword at his throat. Jason had fought but had been hit hard on the side of the head and he too had been forced down to the ground. The last thing he remembered of the short fight was Pythagoras being suddenly surrounded and dragged from both him and Hercules.

Jason had no indication of the time that had passed between then and now. The days melted into one another, an endless parade of walking, beatings and constant worry about Pythagoras, and Jason wished it would end. It seemed that some deity, and being in Greece he could name a lot of gods both great and small, had heard his prayers when the slow wave of chained prisoners came to a halt. Screams from the slavers with their whips and jangling keys echoed through the valley they had stopped in and loudly called for a halt and for the prisoners to stand in a line to await inspection.

They had done this a few miles from every city they had been through. They would be separated, registered and taken to the city in groups. Men and women were separated. Then the men were separated into groups depending on what the traders thought they could be sold as. This usually consisted in being divided into men that would be farm workers, domestic slaves, army workers and then a group that Jason realised was for those whom they felt they couldn’t sell at a high price or in some cases at all. These unfortunate men where then split up into three groups; one for the salt mines, of which Jason knew the life expectancy wasn’t great, one for the gladiator areas where life expectancy was even lower and the last group was for the pleasure houses of the city. Though the last category had more women within it, Jason knew some men ended up this way as well.  
Both cities before Atlantis, Jason and Pythagoras had not been put up for sale and remained with the caravan with other men but by the looks of things this time they weren’t going to be so lucky.

One by one the people in the caravan were lined up and being put into those categories. Jason quickly pulled himself upright, he couldn’t look weak, he had to make it to a proper audience for any hope of Hercules or Adriane to find and help him. He couldn’t say the same for Pythagoras. The younger man as soon as a halt had been called had fallen to the floor, Jason couldn’t get to him but even from this distance he could see that the mathematician had lost consciousness. His skin was ivory white even through the slight tan and bright red sun burning from the long march in the blistering sun and had a thin veil of sweat on his face and arms. The whip lashes had re-opened and opened fresh wounds on his back and the blood from them sluggishly fell down his back in a sticky sweaty mess. Grime and blood matted the blonde hair of the young man and on his forehead was a large yellowing bruise from where a guard had hit him. Jason was powerless to do anything as Pythagoras was unshackled and pulled from the line up by two large men who treated him with all the care that one would treat a large sack of potatoes.

Pythagoras was thrown on to his side and his head hit the rocks, like it was nothing but a piece of meat bouncing slightly and he was chained with his hands at his front and Jason watched fearfully as his friend was also chained by the ankles and lifted away from him.

“Stop! Please… take me with him!” Jason yelled pulling to get to his friend. But it didn’t matter how much he yelled, screamed, called for his friend, begged, punched, fought or struggled Jason was soon restrained by three guards and led further away from his friend.

It was hopeless and Jason let himself receive four lashes and being pushed into the group with other similarly built men who were certain they were to be sold as farm workers. Despair crashed over Jason. He spent the rest of the evening imaging the hell that Pythagoras would be subjected to. He was too weak and sick to be sold as a domestic servant, he was too skinny to be a farm hand or work in the army; that only left the group which would mean certain death. Jason didn’t cry. He was beyond tears. Beyond the knowledge that whatever destiny both he and the young mathematician had was never going to happen and the thought that maybe the future Jason had known wouldn’t happen, and that frightened Jason. It frightened and confused him. Never had he foreseen this ending.

Evening drew on. It was cold in the desert at night and as the sun went below the horizon, fires were lit across the camp giving the scene a glow of the past. Jason had always marvelled over how the light of a small fire with proper wood and bright yellow to red flame could give the surroundings a feel of the past; of history. It made those stories of great Greek heroes that he dared ask Hercules or Pythagoras about just in case they hadn’t become legend yet, seem very real. He could almost see the people in those stories such as Aeneas and Achilles sit around one of those fires awaiting for a battle or telling the story of their adventures to their followers. But since the baby Oedipus adventure, Jason had worried about revealing how much he knew about Greek legend. All those good feelings he had about camp fires however did not reach him this eve or penetrate his despair as he sat watching the flames. He looked into the flames and like an oracle he could see the future; Pythagoras in pain. Him screaming as rough tools cut into his bleeding hands, falling from exhaustion. Skinny and pale faced desperate to catch up with the work load; the young man falling desperately ill, dying alone and in pain, dehydrated and starved; Jason knew this was the fate that awaiting his friend. That was the moment that Jason realised he had to do something.

Rousing himself from these terrible thoughts Jason dragged himself up from the floor and put his brain on over things. If Pythagoras was dying then he couldn’t let him die alone. Jason walked towards the tent where the slavers allowed the prisoners to get water. Jason had realised that even though they were cruel, it didn’t make any sense for the merchandise, as he knew he was now, to be damaged this close to the city where they would be sold. So water was freely given and as Jason noted the queue he realised how grateful the other prisoners were for this reprieve.  
Looking around he found that those in the camp free to walk around (with chains on their wrists) were only those who like Jason where to be sold. Where the unfortunate being such as Pythagoras had been taken he was unsure. Carefully he separated from the main group and as quietly as his chains would allow him he tried to blend into the background of the make shift tents and despondent prisoners. He moved slowly through the rows of tents as the light faded to a blue hue instead of the murky orange one of the fires. The temperature out here was noticeably colder without the heat of both people and the fires. He moved off slowly looking for signs of the other prisoners. He hadn’t worked very far from the small group when the low mumbling couldn’t be heard, or the glow from the small fires had completely faded leaving only the pale blue of the sky and the ghostly atmosphere that was upon this part of the camp. Jason was left with the sound of his breath and the beating of his heart which kept him on his path. It was so loud he was sure it would be heard by the captors.

Taking some deep breaths, Jason calmed himself as frustration hit him. He didn’t know where to start, he had been going in circles he was sure of it. Looking about in the dark blue of the early night he started for the edge of the camp, fixated on the logical approach that he knew that Pythagoras would favour. That thought sent a pang of guilt through Jason, and determination started to burn more brightly within him.

It must have taken Jason an hour to search the entire camp and find his quarry as the sky was black and the stars shone brightly overhead. Jason checked the tents, the storage carts and avoided the sparse guards. He was very surprised his absence hadn’t been noted but then he gathered that the valley was closed off; running wouldn’t get you any further than either the middle of the desert or closer to Atlantis on which the slavers would capture the runaway as well. And if you had the energy to run, you would have the sense to stay and be sold off to a good owner and not sent to the mines. He had almost given up hope when he came to the last part of the camp where too storage carts where stationed. This part of the camp was in darkness but judging by the faint dancing of flames a small group of people were being held here. It was much colder here nearest to the desert and away from the larger fires. Jason moved closer and found that the two storage carts were modified from normal carts and filled with people.

There were bars on the carts and great iron bars indicating a door on the back of each. The two carts were larger than normal carts but they were both cramped with people. Jason quickly looked for captors before heading out into the open to have a closer look and hopefully find Pythagoras.  
Almost as soon as Jason stepped into the open the desperate people in the cart started to reach out to him and call to him. The people contained in the tiny cage where in terrible condition. All were dirty and thin, all had large eyes washed with fear and the ones at the front of the cage reached out with skinny arms, skin ravaged with scars, welts and sores. The ones in the cage where devoid of chains around there wrists but their feet were chained to the bottom of the cage which was filthy with things Jason didn’t want to think about. Through the darkness Jason looked in vain in the first cart for Pythagoras. But he couldn’t see the young mathematician in the mass of poor people. The pleas from the desperate people got louder the closer Jason got and he saw in the cages where men, women and children all pushed together. He moved to the next cage and looked through the darkness for his friend.

Soon he found himself answering the pleas with his own. “Have you seen my friend? Please… anyone please… have you seen him? Pythagoras? Please?”

After five minutes of getting nowhere Jason resigned himself. Pythagoras was lost possible dead, maybe that last blow to the head had killed him and his suffering was over. Jason hoped it was the case. He turned to leave. But so deep into his depression over not finding his friend and unable to help these poor people he didn’t see the slavers until they were right on top of him. He was forced to the ground and a sword placed to his neck.

“Thought you would be a hero, boy?” The one with the sword said pushing it closer to his neck to emphasise the word ‘boy’ and causing Jason to anchor his head back more so he saw the stars above him.

“What should we do with him?” One of the slavers said as he held Jason’s arm in place behind his back, standing over his legs in the kneeling position they had forced Jason into. The man got very close to Jason, so Jason could hear the malice in his voice and taste the wine on his breath. “We should kill him and make an example of what happens to deserters.” The man pulled out a small dagger and pressed it close to Jason’s face. “We should hang him, with slit wrists and watch as the blood drains out of him, use his corpse as a reminder of what happens when someone tries to be a hero.”

The man with the long sword didn’t look so sure and waved his hand away, the man with the dagger moved off, the sick glint of want still in his eyes. “What do you think, slave?” The swordsman asked relaxing his pressure at Jason’s neck, “Should we leave you to die in the rocks for all to see?” He pulled his hair back once again so his eyes faced the stars “Or would it be better to prolong your pain?” Jason looked defiantly at him.

“So hero, which will it be?” The swordsman asked. He waited for a beat before lowering the sword and pushing Jason forward. “Speak!” He commanded.

Jason coughed into the sandy soil before saying the truth. He had nothing to hide and nowhere to run to, and nothing to lose. “I was just looking for my friend.”

The man with the dagger looked appalled and angrily rushed up to Jason before kicking him; hard. “That is your answer; you are looking for your friend? Let’s just kill him now…” But the swordsman halted the younger slaver and pulled Jason to his feet.

“What happened to your friend?” He asked pulling Jason so he was face to face with him. This close Jason could see the scars around the man’s lips, the tight mouth a thin band across yellowing teeth, small black eyes and a large nose. His breath was stale and the hint of tobacco was on his breath but no wine was hinted at. The man shook him hard and Jason replied quickly, “we were separated in the line-up this morning.”

“Don’t lie to me boy, no one has friends here. Where are you from boy?” The swordsman asked, face still very close to Jason and Jason watched as the man’s eyes racked his body in the half fire light.

“Atlantis.” Jason replied. The swordsman shook his head. There was a pause only highlighted by the frustrated heavy breathing of the small man with the dagger. The swordsman seemed to be making a decision.

“I know you boy, don’t I?” The swordsman said looking carefully at Jason and his necklace. Jason shook his head though he knew as soon as his name was spoken the man would realise he was the famed hero from Atlantis.

After a long minute of staring at Jason, trying to place him, the swordsman finally turned to his little companion and told the dagger clad slaver, “This one is for the master.” The younger man looked disappointed and sheathed the dagger before starting to stalk off. The swordsman grabbed Jason by the hair and made him walk in front of him. Marching him away from the small fire and the cage carts towards the row of tents with the biggest fires Jason was frog marched until they reached a large tent at the back of the camp with two guards outside the entrance. Jason was thrust harshly inside.

The tent was larger than any tent Jason had ever been in. It was sparsely furnished but had drapes of fine material around it and a large plush make shift mattress in the middle of the room with fine covers and silks. From the ceiling however hung a pair of handcuffs on a long chain and Jason realised that this were matched by a pair of ankle ones on either side of the bed. He froze with sudden dread and anticipation.

The slaver chuckled when he entered behind Jason and pushed him around the mattress and out the other side of the tent towards a smaller one. “All in good time, my dear.” He said with untold lust creeping into his voice. “But tonight you will be clean and refreshed.”  
Jason was pushed into the smaller tent and it took a few minutes to realise that the man hadn’t followed him. He looked up and his gaze was met by a young man’s.

The young man smiled at Jason and gestured him to sit down. Jason shook his head, he wanted answers. He was cold, tired and miserable and worried he had become the play thing of a slave trader. The young man seemed to see this conflict and spoke quietly and carefully.  
“I know you have questions. I’m Telemachus and I like you am far from home. You must sit and rest, please we have fruit and water and a clean bed to spend the night in. I will answer all your questions in the morning.”

Telemachus gestured to the four beds at the back of the tent and there lying on the bed furthest to the right was Pythagoras.

The tent’s light wasn’t the brightest, with dancing shadows on the linen back like a shadow theatre projecting monsters for children’s imaginations. Like a great hydra snaked its way across the back of the tent, great shadowed neck cascading down towards the floor, the wind gave the tent a more sinister air than it otherwise would have. It was a small tent with four beds, or sacks of straw compacted down with sheets of cotton across them to give the imitation of beds, laid out in regular integers along the back of the tent, there was a low stall with a bowl of water on it and another low stall with a tray of bread and fruit upon it. To the unconcerned eye this tent was innocent and contained the comforts of any travelling party, to a high standard. But upon closer look the three inhabitants of this tent where on edge and seemed to be there against their wills. To make things starker a contrast two of the men sitting down on one of the beds both had their ankles manacled together. One leant down to knell beside the third man who was seemingly asleep in the further bed to the right.

“What happened to him?” Jason asked, taking the cloth from the bowl of cool water that was sitting on the floor beside the bed. He gave it a quick squeeze and then placed it on the younger man’s forehead. There wasn’t a reaction from this man and Jason felt his heart clench. It had been less than a few hours that Jason had been separated from Pythagoras and in that time the young mathematician had gone from aware and ill to unresponsive and deathly sick. The other man in the tent, who had called himself Telemachus, was watching the pair with great concern.

He was a small man, and Jason guessed he couldn’t be more than eighteen, merely a boy, a thought to himself. He was well built however and dressed in simple tunic and trousers and Jason couldn’t help but note that they were of finer quality than his or Pythagoras’. What Jason noted most though was that this young man knew more what was going on than he did.

“We made camp, while the slave sorting was happening and the master always gets first pick of the slaves he wishes to keep or dispose of…” Telemachus trailed off. Jason couldn’t help but think that the boy had thought that Pythagoras was in the latter category judging by the state of him. “But then he comes in carrying him,” he pointed at Pythagoras with a hint of envy, “and tells me to clean him up. So I washed him, and tended to his wounds, gave him water and some healing herbal remedy. But I don’t know whether he will make it through the night.”

Jason looked down at Pythagoras. His skin was grey and was no longer sweating just wet with a faint mist, he looked thinner and his breathing was shallower than before. Jason held Pythagoras’ hand harder. He didn’t want the young man to die. But maybe it would be kinder.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name?” Telemachus said slowly.

“Jason,” Jason replied not taking his eyes from his friend, “and his name is Pythagoras.” Telemachus nodded and withdrew back to sitting on the bed.  
In a low voice Jason asked “what will happen to us?” He said as Telemachus lay back on his bed, turned onto his side facing away from Jason.  
“I don’t know, but you saw the chains…” for the first time in their meeting the young boy sounded scared and Jason had no questions on whether it was needed as he felt it defiantly was. He was under no false illusions what the chains were for and wished he hadn’t seen the glint in the man’s eye. What made him feel sicker was the thought that maybe poor Pythagoras would await the same fate. He leaned against the straw bed that Pythagoras lay on and quietly he begged his friend “please Pythagoras, please don’t die, don’t leave me here.”

It was a long night and through it Jason prayed to every god he could name and those he couldn’t for Pythagoras to get well, he just needed him to wake up and say something in his measured and logical tone and for him to tell Jason just how hopeless everything was. Jason also prayed that somewhere Hercules was still alive and looking for them. A sudden flash through his mind of the larger man asleep on the street after drinking too much made Jason half smile and half think that maybe that was what he was doing. Thinking of Atlantis made Jason feel slightly home sick. He thought of the dusty streets, the sandy steps of the town walls, the larger than life temples and tiny hovels of the people who lived in the crowded town. The small apartments that he had come to call home, the small sleeping area and the tiny kitchen, Pythagoras’ desk with his work on triangles. Jason let his mind wander down the small roads towards the temple of Poseidon through the market that smelled of exotic fruit, burning meats and cold cuts, live farm animals, blood and sweat and grime. The noises of children and happy people, the cry of street sellers, everything had become too familiar and comfortable. Jason, on the edge of sleep, let his mind wonder further and images of modern day London merged with that of Atlantis. He saw cars on the streets and people in suits walking alongside those in the Greek attire. He saw the odd shop he remembered as he walked to the temple in all its glory. He walked quickly to it before walking inside where the ceiling felt smaller than he remembered it being and he had to crawl, calling out to the oracle he ventured into the dark. Suddenly he heard a voice answering him.

“JASON!”

But he couldn’t see anything it was dark and suffocating warm, he tried to scratch at his neck, it was sore and something was attacking it.

“JASON!”

The voice was getting louder. The darkness was starting to lighten to white and in front of his eyes was the oracle holding a knife to Pythagoras’ neck. Jason took a deep breath and tried to run forward, but his throat caught and he couldn’t move. The oracle’s eyes were ablaze with red fire and she looked deep into Jason’s soul. Echoing in a screamed whisper she just said “soon,” and drew the blade across Pythagoras’ neck.

Jason awoke suddenly, breathing heavily to find Telemachus shaking him and a pair of scared blue eyes from the pair looking up at him. Pythagoras was at least awake and staring up at him. He scared whisper broke through the silence punctuated only with harsh breaths. “J-Jason what was that?” The mathematician asked slowly.

Jason blinked hard ignoring Telemachus and his worried expression. Instead he brushed the sleep from his eyes with a brush from his slightly grimy sleeve and looked at his friend. Pythagoras was staring back, wide blue eyes glinting with a faint veil of unshed tears, his blue eyes like the ocean, mixed with green and they seemed to swirl bordered with red. His face, though pale and grey was tinted with pink, a sign he was making some type of recovery. But the expression on his face was that of scared horror; had he seen what Jason had seen? Had he seen a vision of the future? Or had Jason just had a nightmare and thrashed too violently until his ill friend woke beside him?

After staring back for a minute, Jason gathered his senses and brushed the side of Pythagoras’ face gently, turning quickly to Telemachus to bring water. “It’s ok; everything is going to be ok.” He said stupidly. Pythagoras looked unimpressed, but chose that moment to cough, a very dry cough that screamed volumes of his dehydration. Telemachus passed Jason the bowl of clean water and he held it to Pythagoras’ face carefully. “Slowly.” He instructed.

Within forty minutes Jason was happy with the amount of water Pythagoras had taken and was happy to let the young mathematician doze on the make shift bed. Telemachus looked on as Jason eased the young man’s forehead with a cool cloth.

“You care a great deal for him. I can see that in the way you act, the look in your eyes, it is like the way a husband looks after his wife.”  
Jason paused. Maybe that was how he cared for Pythagoras, but it did not deter him.

“We must look after one another in difficult times.” He said simply. Finishing his task and rising slightly to rest on the bed beside Pythagoras’. Telemachus came and sat down beside him.

“It is more than that. He is strong and his exhaustion will pass. But you care most deeply for your beloved.” Jason turned to Telemachus to see the young man looking into the distance with a sad look in his eyes. Jason decided to take pity on the young man, whom he realised hadn’t slept all night and must be exhausted. Jason let the term ‘beloved’ hang in the air like the elephant in the room it was. This was not the time or place to re-evaluate his relation with anyone especially his best friend who a few hours ago looked like he was to take a trip across to Hades. Jason knew that he had no sexual attraction to Pythagoras. He loved him, as the genius he was, but he did not require or desire any sexual pleasure from the young man. 

But Jason wasn’t completely without cultural background. He knew that beloved was used to describe great warriors and their young man friends. It was acceptable for him, as a straight male to have a beloved, and that was enough of an explanation Jason needed. Ariadne flashed across his thoughts suddenly and Jason felt the pangs of desire for her, and realised that this was purely friendly he felt for Pythagoras. His pondering was stopped when Telemachus gave a short yawn which he tried to sniffle.

“Why don’t you sleep my young friend?” He tried, it must be nearly dawn and Jason could only image what the future would bring in the bed chamber with the chains and the slave traders in the camp around them. Telemachus however just shook his head.

“I could not sleep, for I am too awake.” He said smiling as brightly as he could but it did not touch his eyes, instead he looked more exhausted. Jason nodded and made to lie on his bed facing Pythagoras but he could still see Telemachus.

Resting his neck on his arm and enjoying the relaxation of the tension that had gathered across his neck and shoulders, Jason tried to relax. Happy that Pythagoras was better hydrated and sleeping peacefully, Jason turned to concentrate on Telemachus who had brought his legs to his arms and was resting his head on his knees.

“Ok, Telemachus, tell me about yourself then. Do you have a beloved?”

~~**~~

Hercules distrusted the men he had fallen in with. They were thieves and bandits for better use of a term. None of them belonged anywhere. All stateless, leaderless and needing a place to call their own was the way Hercules called them, but at this moment he was no better.

Currently, the men were camped against the fringe of the forest that you could see the fires of Atlantis from. Away from the harshness of the desert and with cover from other thieves and bandits it was the perfect place to camp this night. The men were heading to Atlantis for the slave market that was to take place there in a few days’ time. Hercules knew that was where he would find Pythagoras and Jason so travelled with his unsavoury new friends to have safe passage away from the slavers. Hercules bitterly regretted his actions when he and the other had been attacked. It had been too fast, one moment they had been travelling slowly back towards Atlantis, minor errand completely, when they had been attacked.

Hercules remembered trying to defend Pythagoras. He loved the boy most fiercely and couldn’t bear to think of him injured or in pain. But they were set upon by men with swords on every side and hopelessly outnumbered, Hercules was ashamed to admit. The next thing he knew both Jason and Pythagoras were either shackled and dragged to their knees, like Jason, or eyes closed and dumped unconscious, like Pythagoras on a cart and Hercules was left for dead, bleeding and seeing double. It was obvious that the slavers didn’t want the larger, older man and had just left him exposed in the desert. Hercules didn’t know how long he had lain on the ground watching the blistering sun make her arch across the sky and the coldness of the night draw about him. He had never felt such deep despair. Watching the stars roll across the sky he knew this was it. 

He had lost everything; his home, his friends, he wouldn’t see Medusa again and he had failed Pythagoras. Resigned to his fate and praying quietly to the god of the underworld that he could wait for Pythagoras on the shores of the Styx where they could cross together. He prayed the same for Medusa adding that she live a full life and he added Jason as well just in case he died before Pythagoras. Though in his heart he knew that slave traders only sold the strongest captors and everyone else went to the salt mines. He had let his mind drift as he heard the sounds of wolves and he laid waiting for death to come.

But death never came.

Instead he felt hands on him as they searched his body. As a hand reached further down, Hercules had to do something. Body tackling the intruder he forced himself on top of them to find a young woman was searching him.

Hercules had recognised her from the minute he had laid eyes on her. And she him, but they hadn’t spoken about it; only moved towards Atlantis together. An unspoken truce as soon as she had said “I must protect Jason.”

She was small, well built, had dark hair and was struggling in his grip. He let go to find himself threatened with a knife. It was obvious however this was for their mutual benefit.

Even with their questionable travelling companions she held her own. Hercules had told her his story and she hers, both were looking for people who were to be traded. But Hercules was cautious he knew what she was and what she could do.

He knew Pythagoras would have laughed at him being so careful around this woman but Hercules had a feeling and he didn’t trust her. And it all started when he had seen the contents of her herb bag hanging from her hip. It was small and black, leather with a fine chain holding it together, and had thin script curling around it. Hercules had only seen writing like that on the side of temples and he couldn’t read it. He didn’t trust anything he couldn’t read.

He usually left Pythagoras to do the decoding of foreign languages but he even knew that it was the language that only priests used. Thoughts of women and religion worried Hercules and had done since his run in with both the priestess of Dionysius and the witch Circe.

And this woman was a witch. Hercules planned to keep a distance from her just in case. But like the miss trust he had felt originally with Jason he tried his hardest to not alert his saviour or her travelling partners. Instead he watched the horizon and prayed to all the gods that he would make it back to Atlantis in one piece.

Hercules looked out across the valley to see the first light of the breaking day shimmering across the sky. The woman sat down beside him and handed him a bowl of warm water.

“Drink, for we have a long day ahead of us.” She said eating a date from a terracotta plate, painted with a black pattern. She was dressed simply. A thin tunic with a small pattern sewn into the side, light leggings and brown leather boots, tied up with long laces and she wore her long hair in a ponytail with a single braid on the right side of her head. Hercules took a deep mouthful of the water and swallowed loudly.

Sighing he asked “What is to become of us?” The woman seemed to pick up on his mood.

“We are to be victors and to enter the gates of Atlantis and to reclaim that is ours. And Hercules you are to help us.” Hercules looked at startled he hadn’t given his name. He had been very careful not to give his name.

“And why would I help you?” He asked carefully and the woman smiled.

“The goddess answered many of my questions, as she will yours.” She said. Hercules knew how to play this one and tried to turn on the charm.

“And what would happen if I just killed you in your sleep?” He said trying to add a small smile in his statement and a hint of truth upon his lips; he had thought about it and wasn’t afraid to act on it. The woman smiled, popping another date into her mouth.

“You flatter yourself with images of strength and power, Jason couldn’t kill me and I don’t believe you will.” She said looking at the dawning day. Hercules turned to her and pushed her fallen bangs from her face roughly before she shook off his hand.

“You need me Hercules, because Jason won’t survive without me.” She said and she faced him sitting up to full height, she rearranged her posture so she was taller than Hercules, and she breathed out, puffing out her chest so her breasts looked large. She bit her lip and asked in a small voice, that Hercules did not think a woman who had saved his life call manage, “I can save Medusa.”

Hercules grabbed her arms and lifted her to his lap, grabbing her roughly and clawing her arm in a tight embrace. “Don’t test my promise of killing you! You have no idea what that name does to me!”. He growled frustration and hatred in his voice. She flicked her hair and looked into his eyes, touching the side of his face, as though she was going to kiss him. Hercules felt his pulse quicken and a wash of feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time; lust and frustration building in his chest as he entertained images of making this witch scream. But as suddenly as it came it was taken again as the woman forced him to the floor, the bowl smashing and the left over water falling to the floor. She straddled him and took at a small dagger resting it on his chest.

“You are as pathetic as the day I rescued you. I am a princess. I am a priestess and have more knowledge of the world than you. I, Medea will crush you if you try anything. I will take everything you love; I have seen your past and a hint of your future. And I can change everything you know.”

She pushed him down and cut a small slice across his cheek. “By your blood, you may think you are free but in reality you are now as much a slave and captive as the one I seek.”

She pushed him down and rose, shouting to the other men. “We will stay here another day, bring me an animal to sacrifice to the goddess.”

She turned to leave, with Hercules still on the floor. Medea took a few steps and then as though she had come up with something else to say she turned to Hercules, “I have business in Atlantis and I know you are the key to the one I seek.”


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad stuff happens to Pythagoras in this chapter. Warnings for non con kicks in for this chapter.

Chapter 2

Telemachus returned to the tent later that day to find both Jason and Pythagoras reclining together on a bed. They seemed happy in one another’s company and Telemachus was happy of this. He knew how lonely this journey had been as a slave to the master. He himself as he had explained to Jason had been taken many months ago and since then many moons had passed. He had only his master for company and his experience had not been kind. His master was cruel and the two men who had gone before Jason and Pythagoras had been so broken and scared that he found little comfort in their company. He had not mentioned these two men to his new companions as he didn’t want to answer any questions on what their role in life now was.

His master hadn’t been kind when he had asked.

Kneeling on the ground in the chamber where his master took his food, he had asked about the fate of the two new men. His master had smiled and ran a long calloused hand down his neck and spine, a sickening imitation of gentle caress and his master had said “You are not to speak of my new acquisitions, or of the old ones or you will meet the same fate.”

The master’s son, a crueller man, with small dark eyes and a fondness for small daggers in the night, gave a small laugh, for it was he who had been the one to finish the last of the two men off. Telemachus feared him more than his master, though he would never tell a soul of this.  
Instead his master continued to stroke him until he had turned and been lend over a low stall for his master’s pleasure. While his master took his pleasure he was reassured “you however my little prince are for a bigger purpose.”

He was let go and walked, slowly, but to the tent in the knowledge that his master was waiting for something. The main slave camp had moved on a day previous but they hadn’t gone, instead they were to wait until ‘the skinny one’ as the master’s son called Pythagoras, was recovered enough. Telemachus had noticed a betterment in the young man’s self. He had slept a long time and Jason had made him drink lots of water, so much that Telemachus had been forced to get more.

He hadn’t told Jason this yet.

There were many things that Telemachus would not tell Jason, because he didn’t trust him. Trudging into the tent he gave a brief smile to his new tent shares and went to lie on the next bed along.

“How are you today Telemachus?” Pythagoras asked quietly. Concern was lining the side of his face. Telemachus over the past three days had grown to like the light haired man more than Jason, as he was kind and always tried to get the subject matter on brighter things.

“I’m very well, if a little tired. My master works me very hard.” Telemachus replied and Pythagoras got up from where he was laying on Jason and grabbed a tray of food that Telemachus himself had brought this morning to the men.

“Here, eat, please, let me get you some water.” The thin man said with a bright smile that touched the black pupil of his eyes. And before Telemachus could say no Pythagoras grabbed a jug from the table and left the tent his chained ankles clinking together as he walked to the tent with the water within it.

“Your friend is too kind.” Telemachus said to Jason who had been watching the scene. But Jason wasn’t paying any attention to him but was doing something with his chains. Telemachus (whose chains were only on his wrists and did not make any noise when he moved) looked over to find that Jason had a small metal implement that he was using to pull apart the chains keeping his feet restricted.

“Jason, what are you doing?” Pythagoras was back and turned to Telemachus.

“We are going to get out of here, Atlantis isn’t far. Come with us.” Pythagoras pleaded. He put the jug down and walked to Jason. Who nodded, there was clunk as one of the rings broke. Jason turned to Pythagoras’ chains and started work.

Telemachus was unsure. He couldn’t even think about an escape attempt. The other men had tried escaping attempts in the early days but he knew this was part of the game. “You can’t, they will catch you and do terrible things…” Telemachus suddenly wanted to warn them but his backside ached from the treatment from his master and he remembered the warning he was given. Instead he just settled with begging gently.

“Please don’t risk this.”

Jason stood up after another clunk as a chain link broke for Pythagoras. “We have to try.” And Pythagoras nodded at him, though there was concern upon his face. Telemachus nodded and turned away from them. He didn’t want to watch the down fall of these two men.

He had watched bigger men fall, being broken was going to be painful and he could just image how his master was going to do it. He would start with the weaker one, giving him time to be tortured while the other watched and was broken down by work. And then even sold or humiliated into submission. Tears fell done from his eyes and tipped down his face. He pulled the blanket up over his face. He man was worth his tears but maybe two men were.

He didn’t want the two men discussing when to make their break for it to see him cry and he let himself drift until he was asleep.

Hours later he awoke to a darken tent which was completely empty. What had awoken him was the sound of screaming and shouting and dogs barking. Telemachus shuddered and pulled the blankets tighter fearing the worst.

 

*

 

Dusk is a wonderful thing. It gives a scene mystery, yet still enough light to be able to see what you are doing. It is the time when romantic stories are told as well as horror stories giving it both the scary and the mystery feel that a good story needs. This was what Jason noted as he waited for the sun to set and for the lamps and fires to a lighted, and for a misty haze to gather across the desert making the fires of the city they lay in the shadow of to dance like far away stars. He and Pythagoras had discussed this plan to the detail but he assumed like many plans of theirs before this wasn’t going to end well. And he knew they were both horribly outnumbered, with no weapons, no chance of back up and he had the sense that maybe this was doomed. Jason’s dreams of late had been disturbing with them always ending with the oracle of Atlantis. She would stand in her blue robes, with wild hair and piercing eyes holding Pythagoras by the throat with a knife against it. Jason was always struck by how calm his friend looked, and on the third night Jason had tried calling out to him. Nothing had changed. Instead the priestess had uttered “soon” and slowly pulled the blade across Pythagoras’ throat. That was always when Jason woke up. Unable to sleep any more he had taken to watching over Telemachus, the younger boy of whom had become very quiet once his serving duties, as he called them, had started or just simply watching Pythagoras sleep.

Pythagoras had made a wonderful recovery. For which Jason would always be in Telemachus’ debt over as would Pythagoras he had come up with this plan. Once Pythagoras was strong enough they would make their escape. He hoped they would get further away and be half way to Atlantis before anyone noticed. Pythagoras had said to take the younger boy with them but he had refused. So they waited.

And now was the moment.

Jason watched as the night guards at the master’s tent changed for the night and the fire in the tent was lowered in height for the night. He shook Pythagoras from his sleep and blew out the candle in their tent. With one more check that Telemachus had dropped off to sleep after what seemed like crying himself to sleep and they were having one last check around. The camp was very quiet as Jason made a path out into the open avoiding being seen by the guards. Pythagoras was behind him his breathing steady.

They made their way slowly through the camp and around the back of the soldier’s tent. Jason signalled for Pythagoras to keep back as he dodged the shadows and moved to another area. Hidden in the shadows Jason watched more men enter the tent. They looked like paid body guards but Jason knew that in Atlantis the tattoos that these men had were the symbols of a cult. What cult he could not say, but only cult members had tattoos.

He looked around and saw a hiding place by the cliff; signalling for Pythagoras to follow Jason quickly run to the shadowed alcove and crouched down to the see his next challenge. This was the row of fires that circled the camp. This was to keep wild animals and other unsavoury characters from entering the camp. There was a guard between each fire. Keeping to the shadows wasn’t going to be an option. All Jason could do was wait.  
Pythagoras joined Jason, and leaned heavily against him. Jason could feel the younger man’s heart rabbiting in his chest. Good, Jason thought the shot of adrenalin would keep him going. Checking once again he turned to Pythagoras and placed a finger to his lips indicating quiet. Pythagoras nodded, his head brushing Jason’s shoulder. Jason edged forward stopping only once as the flame of the nearest fire flickered in the sudden breeze. This made Jason’s shadow dance extremely large for all to see; as his monster form danced happily across the sand. Carefully he edged past the guard whom seemed to be sleeping and broke for cover. Running fast and straight he made for the darkness of the ragged rocks about one hundred meters from where they were camped. Breathing hard to keep himself going in a desperate make for freedom.

The blue tint of the sand reflected up at him as a crashed to a stop, amazed he had got this far without being seen and he sent a quick pray to any god who was on his side. Turning back he gestured for Pythagoras to follow him. He could see the thinner man where he was hiding by the tents on the inside of the camps.

Pythagoras nodded and edged forward. He was shaking slightly and his hands felt sweaty as he crept out into the open. Jason could see the guards between the fires where paying no attention to his companion and he prayed that they could go without being noticed. Pythagoras edged closer to the fire, his shadow long and stretched out on the blue sand. Carefully he made it past the fire and broke out into a direct run. Jason felt his heart in his mouth as he watched Pythagoras run for where he was hiding when a yell broke from the camp.

“Don’t let him escape!”

It was the thin younger man with the dagger who not three days ago wanted to split Jason in half for fun with his small dagger. Pythagoras turned his eyes flashing in fear and Jason saw deep fear but also that is being resigned to his fate. The younger man turned from where he was running and changed direction away from Jason’s hiding place. He was going to save Jason, the dark haired man realised. This was Jason’s chance to get further away and Pythagoras was giving Jason that chance.

Jason’s heart was hammering in his own chest, panic was rising in his throat, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to save Pythagoras not Pythagoras save him. He saw himself as a hero, strong and talented. Not Pythagoras of whom he saw as the damsel in distress, someone who needed saving. 

But shouldn’t he go back and be heroic? Should he just save himself or get re captured? Many questions clouded his vision and his mind and he couldn’t think. Instead, Jason just stayed where he was hidden from view, watching in horror as his best friend was chased down the valley by four dogs and a mad man who once Pythagoras was on the floor punched him hard in the face and then dragged him up by the neck of his shirt.  
The excitement over the other men retreated into the camp again leaving Jason in the cold outside in the desert. Jason felt cold inside and was suddenly very aware that he had made the wrong decision.

He was supposed to be a hero, he had a great destiny, that’s what the Oracle had told him and he had just sat there like a rock. He was just as use as the rocks that gave him cover from the slavers. He had chosen himself and he knew Pythagoras would suffer for it. Suddenly the dreams made sense. The image of the oracle, reminding him of his destiny and the barrier that Pythagoras was standing there for him to choose. And he had chosen.

Deep down he knew he had to go back; he had to rescue his friend. But instead he had stayed put, and let Pythagoras save him instead of how it should be. And Jason was thankful that Pythagoras had used his logic to make at least one of them survive.

Jason vowed to himself right there that he would save Pythagoras. He would make the math’s genius come back to him, and he would be damned if he didn’t get the mathematician to live up to his claim to fame. Boring thousands of children for years to come Jason had told him when they first met and he couldn’t do that crouched hiding like a scared child from behind a rock. Making his legs move, Jason edged away from the camp and headed to the glinting city of Atlantis. He needed a plan and in his mind he was slowly coming up with one, but he would need some help.  
His thoughts turned to the princess of Atlantis. She would help him, he was certain. And with that thought Jason pushed into the night heading towards the woods to the right of Atlantis were he could enter the city without being seen and travel through the day.

Walking through the night was cold going.

Jason hadn’t given his escape attempt much thought past the actual escaping. Pythagoras had the water bottle and a small knife, he realised guiltily. The younger man was always better equipped and better organised when Jason led them into this situations. So Jason soon felt tired, thirsty and hungry. Stopping for a quick nap Jason found a small covered cave under a tree roots. Gnarled and ancient he ignored the beetles and snakes that hung from the tree and leaned against a cleaner stretch of trunk to rest his eyes.

No sooner had Jason closed his eyes then a vision, or dream filtered into his mind. He saw through mist, Pythagoras on a low bed, chained and crying, and a woman beside him. She seemed to ignore Pythagoras but made for Jason himself, pulling him in for a kiss, pushing herself to him.  
Jason jerked awake wiping the sweat away from his face he breathed heavily. Jason pulled himself up and away from the tree and continued on his way trying to ignore his obvious arousal and pressed on through the woods.

Less than a mile from where Jason was stumbling towards the city of Atlantis, the witch Medea woke from a dream where she had.

 

*

 

Hercules ate the berries he had found on a nearby bush carefully. It hadn’t be a month since the last bout of food poisoning of which Jason had told him it was because no one cooked their meat properly in Atlantis and ‘where he was from’ they washed the food first and made sure meat was cooked through. Hercules had come to realise that when Jason said ‘where he came from’ he was going to say something about how things were strange and not the norm, like Hercules knew. It was like when the young girl next door had given birth and died from bleeding out. Jason had mentioned taking her to a doctor and if they had been ‘where he was from’ she would have been taken to a hospital. Hercules had told Jason that the gods would see to it. Though in his currently situation maybe ‘where Jason was from’ held a better way of living than leaving everything up to the gods. Pythagoras never argued with Jason over his, in Hercules’ opinion, loose belief in the gods and Hercules assumed this was because the boy had an unfailing belief in logic and reason. Hercules had to admit that when it came to the situation where he was eating unknown berries maybe that was a good thing and maybe Pythagoras was brushing off on Hercules slightly. Hercules checked the berry and looked it over, there wasn’t anything foul smelling about nor was it green. Carefully he placed it in his mouth and it was fine, if a little sharp.

But the truth was that he was hungry. Dates and berries wouldn’t keep him going for long. The only meat that the small company had found the witch Medea, (or was she a princess?) Hercules couldn’t keep up; was used for an offering to the goddess, Hera.

Hercules had no problems with offerings to the gods but the witch had prayed with hands raised to the heavens and drained the blood onto the floor before a small altar. Muttering words which Hercules couldn’t understand though the few men in the company, such as Marcus the pickpocket and Gaius the butcher turned murderer told Hercules that she was speaking a new tongue and not an old one as Hercules had assumed. The new tongue was a dialect of Greek that apparently had a written script. That explained how Hercules couldn’t read the writing that was sewn into Medea’s clothes or the writing that snaked up her foot and curled her ankle before heading up towards her body. Hercules didn’t know the extent but he didn’t want his imagination to go that far.

The ceremony had been a small one with the few men in the company and the witch had offered them nothing to pray to Hera. Instead she prayed in this new language which Gaius had told Hercules that the oracle at the temple of Hera in Helios had told him that it was language that many stories would be told for years to come. Hercules wasn’t so impressed. As much as once upon a time he wanted to be a hero from those of old he was quite happy to just listen to them and not take part in them. Well that had been the plan before Jason and this craziness had started. The blood had poured and the little wine the witch had was poured in with the blood.

Praying in her new language, Hercules had watched as the blood turned clear and before his eyes and to the astonishment of both Hercules and the men around him, flashes and images were reflected in the blood.

Hercules saw Atlantis, he saw fire, he saw fire in the temple of Poseidon, he saw the witch’s face reflected out and he saw the screaming faces of people in the city of Atlantis. Then the image changed and he saw Pythagoras’ face crying and then the image changed to Jason and the witch Medea and Jason was holding a sword to the neck of someone… it was just a flash and it was suddenly gone.

The witch had uttered something in the new language and grabbed her sword swearing all of them to never speak of what they had seen. But Hercules could see what she had seen had affected her. She had stormed away leaving the bewildered men to spend the day waiting for more instructions. So Hercules found himself sitting eating the berries wishing they were moving on. He was sick of forests and wished for the comforts of his small apartment in Atlantis. He could see it in his mind and it kept him quiet and calm. Almost nodded off he was jerked awake by another person sitting down beside him.

Marcus the pickpocket grabbed some berries and relaxed beside Hercules. He was a small man, built much like Pythagoras with a long nose and long fingers the man could easily slip between people and grab things from pockets and cut bags. He was traveling to Atlantis as his last city had a warrant out for his arrest and the punishment for him to lose his hand. Understandably he was running. Ina low voice the man asked Hercules quietly, “What did you see in the blood?”

He took another bite of a hand full of berries only to spit them out claiming they were too sour. Hercules just shook his head “I didn’t see anything, though I think the woman did.” He said trying not to give anything away in his expression.

Marcus smiled “I gathered that, thought I saw a prison guard in the blood, but I think I’m losing my mind to the boredom of waiting in these trees.” Hercules nodded, he knew the feeling though he was now questioning that what he saw in the blood had actually been vision of the future.

“Must have been, I myself cannot wait to be gone from this place, Atlantis is so far but so near as well.” Hercules concluded and the other man smiled.

“Atlantis is your home, and soon to be mine as well!” He said picking up a few rocks on the ground and throwing them a way off. They landed on the ground just as Medea walked towards the two men.

She looked at the rocks and suddenly turned drawing her dagger. As she turned someone came crashing through the trees and bushes. A ball of limbs, legs and arms flailing in the air until they came to a stop and Medea was on top of their unknown attacker. Hercules, however, mused that the could be assailant was more surprised than any attacker he had ever seen.

Medea pinned the man to the ground with her thighs aside him. The red mist of the want to kill passed from her eyes and she looked down just as her arm made the fateful arch downwards to strike the man; and she stopped dead.

Hercules got to his feet as did Marcus and together they walked over to the witch and her captive. Both woman and man on the floor dared not move as they both looked at one another frozen in shock. Hercules let out a sign of relief as he saw that the man was Jason.

He looked very dirty and sweaty. There was a small cut on his cheek and the tell-tale bags under his eyes betrayed the lack of sleep. The worst thing about this situation though was the startled look on his face, as though he had seen the shade of someone dead.

Had Jason seen what Hercules had seen in the blood? Had Medea? Eyes fixed on the witch, Jason hadn’t seen Hercules so he addressed him, breaking the spell that had befitted the scene.

“Jason, about time you showed up.” Hercules said trying to act as normal as possible. Jason broke eye contact with the witch for a second and realisation came back to his face. He breathed out in relief, though Hercules hoped it wasn’t too soon.

“Hercules, I thought you were dead.” He said as the woman on top of him moved the dagger to threaten him again. She turned to Hercules quickly “Hercules, what is going on?”

Hercules was surprised how calm both Medea and Jason where being, both where glaring daggers at one another and Jason addressed Hercules but didn’t take his eyes from the woman who had almost killed his true love.

“Jason, Medea here is going to help us get back to Atlantis.” Hercules said in a measured tone. Jason’s calm was starting to slip towards black hate, his face was betraying him.

“How and why are you travelling with her?” He spat, seemingly forgetting that the witch had her dagger to his throat.

“Jason, it’s a long story but you have to trust her, as Medea has to trust you, so we can get to Atlantis.”

H just nodded. This seemed to reassure Medea who looked like all her plans had suddenly become clearer. She clambered off of Jason and put her dagger away.

“We are heading for Atlantis, you are welcome to travel with us.” She said. And with a flip of her hair she stalked off into the woods. Jason looked expressly confused and collapsed back breathing out in an exaggerated manner.

Hercules offered Jason a hand to pull himself to sitting. “Are you alright?” Hercules asked as Marcus passed their new companion a bowl of water. Jason drank greedily. It had been a long time since he had taken any water, not since he had ran from the camp. He drank and then nodded. “I was heading for Atlantis, I need help, and they took Pythagoras.” He breathed out shakily; he couldn’t tell Hercules that he had left his best friend to the mercy of a slaver. This was kinder than the truth. Hercules bowed his head. His face showing how heartbroken he was knowing that Pythagoras was gone.

“Did he die well?” He asked at length. Jason was astounded and shook his head. 

“He isn’t dead, Hercules. We… we were captured by slave traders… I escaped…” Hercules raised a hand and nodded his head. Jason took another large mouthful of water and savoured the warmth in his mouth.

“Then, we must get him back.” Hercules said. “Where were they headed? The slavers when you escaped?”

Jason pondered. “Atlantis I think.”

“Then we must go to Atlantis and find Pythagoras before he is sold.” Hercules said. “And luckily…” He said rising from the floor. “We are heading to Atlantis with our favourite witch, there.”

Jason pulled himself up to shaky feet. “Hercules, we can’t trust her, I should of seen the dreams I’ve been having… something bad is coming…”

 

*

 

The tent was very warm. It had been a scorching hot day with the summer sun beating down hard on the tent’s roof. The dry heat rolled off of the sides of the linen roof and made the interior sweltering, sticky on skin and unbearable to think or move. It was humid in the tent due to the boiling hot stones that had been added to water to create a spa like atmosphere, making a slight haze across the tent, making everything feel hotter. The bed in the middle of the room had its linen changed from beige to the colour of red satin. There was a silver jug on a low stall with a plate of cut up apple beside it. A long feather, a cane and a small vile of oil where positioned on another low stall beside them, looking intimidating and aching for attention, which the only occupant in the room was staring at with scared eyes. He was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists. What had started as an unbearable ache across his shoulders was now a throb and constant pain and movement brought little comfort. In fact any movement at all pulled and irritated every part of poor Pythagoras’ shoulders, wrists and arms. He muscles were sore from the struggling he had done as he had been forced into these restraints and ached from the pressure of them forced above his head for hours.

No one had come to relieve him or extend this nightmare. All he could do was ponder what the future had in store and prayed that maybe the god of fortune would look kindly on him. Though that hadn’t seemed the case as seen in recent events, Pythagoras thought grimly.

Sweat dripped off of him as he tried moving his arms again. It had occurred to the mathematician early on that if he slumped forward or tried to relieve the pressure on his arms then he had to stand directly upright and stretch up and if he fell forward he would strain his arms even further. Every position was painful and he soon realised that his wrists would be completely blue from lack of blood. As testament to this he had long since lost feelings in his hands and movement just felt numb.

The curtain of tent was pulled back and a breeze washed across the tent making Pythagoras shiver as a man entered the tent. He was only wearing a pair of trousers and a light jacket, much like Pythagoras’ own grey jumper. He strode in and surveyed the helpless man with a quick smile.

He walked in front of Pythagoras and surveyed his naked apparel. He then turned to the apple of the low stall and selected a piece before bringing it to Pythagoras’ lips.

“Eat, I know you must be hungry.” He said with a slightly accented voice. To hand feed the piece of apple to the restrained man and then another and then two more. The confused expression on Pythagoras’ face had registered as the man spoke again during the act of feeding him the third piece of apple.

“I don’t like it when my slaves disobey me. And for that they must be put in their rightful place.” The man smiled and Pythagoras swallowed the last piece. The man watched his captive’s throat and then surveyed his body.

“You are young, beautiful and full of life, therefore I won’t punish you in ways that will damage your appearance as I find it appealing.” The man ran a single finger down Pythagoras’ back as he climbed around on the bed. “However, I will use you how I see fit.” He said and as to draw the point home he gripped from behind Pythagoras’ cock and squeezed issuing a gasp and intake of breath from Pythagoras. The man let go and continued to slide a finger further around Pythagoras, passing it up towards his arse.

“I am your master now, slave and you will address me as such.” He said in the young man’s ear, his warm breath and touch together making Pythagoras feel incredibly uncomfortable. “Who do you belong to slave?” He said turned Pythagoras in his restrains to face him.

Pythagoras looked him straight in the eye. “I belong to myself.” He said before the man backhanded him hard across the face.

“Don’t think yourself special, my dear,” he said venom in his tone. “I may not want to disfigure you, but pretty bruises on you might make others more likely to want to fuck you.”

Pythagoras was suddenly afraid again. “No…please…” He started before the man shushed him and cupped his face that was still stinging.

“None of that, now, later maybe…I want you to beg me later…” The man turned to the low stall and picked up the cane which he ran his hands along lovingly.

“Now shall we learn who you belong to?”

He returned to the restrained man and took the cane and ran it along the curve of Pythagoras’ back. The man felt a shiver go through him, but at the same time felt defiant. Pythagoras didn’t want to lose himself or play this sadist game. He felt scared and uncomfortable, hurt and humiliated.

A sudden whisk of air and then a blinding pain shot through his backside as the cane made its long arch down to impart a thin red stripe to the young man’s back. Pythagoras’ breath caught and he breathed through his teeth in pain.

The cane was pulled back and a finger was run along the red stripe. “So beautiful, my pretty slave… I can’t wait until it is bruised, sensitive and blistered. These marks of my ownership look so good on your back.” Pythagoras shook his head.

No, he wouldn’t give in; he wouldn’t lose himself to the pain and give this man what he wanted. Another hit with the wicked rod and Pythagoras felt tears rush to his eyes. “Now, pretty slave… tell me who you belong to…”

Pythagoras shook his head but as he did so he felt wetness across his backside, turning his head in fear he saw the man bent over his back licking the redness on his arse. Pythagoras gasped out loud, the pain subsiding slightly. “Please… st-…” He began as the man dipped his head further down. Pythagoras closed his eyes and breathed out through gritted teeth, willing his body not to react, instead to focus on the violation of the act.  
The licking stopped and another strike was added to the two on his lower back, this time Pythagoras cried out.

 

*

 

Ariadne looked out from the palace balcony at the parade of slaves that was entering the city. There were cheers, shouts, jeers and the sound of marching feet echoing up to her from the street below. Everything up here was much louder than it should be, she felt and though she often came out here for air, it was very stuffy and the sight of hundreds of people in chains just made her feel sad and uncomfortable. She turned and headed back inside, her long pink robes and dress giving her blessed cool on her legs. She turned to her hand maids and said she did not need their services until the evening and picked up a shall to cover her hair and headed down to the courtyard and the royal entrance to the temple of Poseidon.

Being a princess was very lonely and even if Ariadne was in a group of people she was always set apart from them and it meant she had to echo the reactions and meetings of people from what she observed. Because of this she spent many a day sitting in the temple watching the people of Atlantis bring their worries and their joy to the mighty earth shaker god. She would sit by one of the great pillars on a low bench and watch families, single men, single women, children, old and young, disabled, rich and poor come and pray, meet one another and then leave.

She wished she could be a part of something or at least have someone to talk to who didn’t request anything of her. The men who came to the palace only wanted to marry her and the only ladies she ever met were to serve her or to ask her favour. She had been quite alone until she had met Jason.

So she waited in the temple hoping to see him again. But it had been nearly a month and she hadn’t seen Jason or his two friends in the city or the temple. It was disappointing and Ariadne feared that Jason had left, met someone or become ill. So she had inquired. But no one seemed to know. So she waited and prayed for his safe return.

Today the temple was extremely quiet when she sat in her usual place. Apart from a recently married couple who held one another like they were the most precious thing in the entire world. No other soul came to the temple for the three hours Ariadne sat and waited.

As the light became dimer she rose to leave and head back to take supper with her father and step mother when she saw her. The oracle was beckoning her to follow her.

Looking around there was no one else, so Ariadne quickly walked across the great temple forecourt and hurried after the oracle. Down the steps to her chambers the princess walked.

The oracle’s chambers were dark and damp. They were ancient chambers below the main temple. The story tellers of the streets told their patrons that the chambers had been built by Poseidon himself and that a bull had been scarified on the very floor in which the oracle saw the future on. They spoke about how he had made the temple large and the sacred chambers small so that only those in true need could go into them. Ariadne did not believe these tales, but these dungeons were small and dank and offered little comfort.

Down the steps a small fire was burning in a small candle holder. This was the only light in the chamber which seemed to be empty.

“Oracle?” Ariadne called out. She stepped completely off the steps and into the darkness of the room away from the only light source.

Suddenly she was grabbed on the arm by the old oracle. Ariadne turned in surprise to see the oracle’s eyes were completely white.

“She will return to Atlantis tonight.” Ariadne breathed out terrified by the whiteness of the oracle’s eyes. “She will return, lost for years, driven by grief… none can escape her…”

“Who will return, please oracle I don’t understand!” Ariadne said startled and scared, she tried pulling off her grip on her arm but the oracle just held on.

“She will bring great change… none can escape…” The oracle trailed off the pupils of her eyes appearing again. 

She blinked looking deep into Ariadne’s face. “I’m sorry my child.” She said moving off to knee on the ground and taking a bowl of rocks throwing them to the ground.

Ariadne followed her. “Please oracle, please tell me…” But the oracle raised a hand.

 

“My child you must leave the city before it is too late…”


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for character death in this chapter.

Chapter 3

 

Darkness was once again the cover that the small party of men and witch used to edge closer to the city of Atlantis. The afternoon had dragged more than Jason had wanted to admit. He had spent most of it explaining to Hercules what had happened to Pythagoras sitting underneath the berry tree. He told of their adventure and their capture and his escape. He told Hercules how Pythagoras was a hero and how he had a plan to get him back. At that part Hercules looked less than impressed. The afternoon had worn on and Hercules had told of his heroic deeds after being left to die and how he had come to meet Medea.

The woman disappeared during the hours of the afternoon and this gave Jason and Hercules many minutes to discuss who she was and what she wanted though neither of them knew. Gaius and Marcus the two thieves travelling with them chimed in on this particular conversation. They both were under the impression that they were enchanted to travel with her but could do nothing about it. Jason pondered this about Hercules when he asked why they were travelling with her, but Hercules merely replied with “I have a debt to pay.”

Satisfied, Jason listened to the three men discuss what they would like to do when they reached Atlantis which mostly consisted of them wanted to visit the public baths, partake in a drink and a large meal and then off to find some female company. Jason had smiled at this as his mind drifted to Ariadne and then to that terrible vision he had seen of her and the woman who was leading them into the city, not through the front door because of it being too dangerous, and to avoid the slavers but in through the back and in the blackest of night. It was like they had something to hide. The worst thing that got was Jason however was how he had seen the woman herself freeze when she had threatened him.

Had she seen the image as well? Was the vision shared? Jason did not speak of this and instead tried to focus on the princess, but the events of today seemed to clear. Whenever he shut his eyes visions of Pythagoras having his throat cut and he kissing the witch invaded his eyes making them snap open.

It was a relief when one of the other men brought him a small bowl of weak soup that had been made and the others changed the subject to talking of food for it rested Jason’s mind. He looked around and saw that no soup had been offered to Medea. So he took his bowl and refilled it with the soup like water and walked over in the direction that she had walked in hours ago.

The brush was thick and green but it did not take five minutes to find the woman by the small stream that flowed towards the ocean and a trail of clothing hanging as if to dry. Medea didn’t notice Jason approach as she was kneeling down in the spring, the water lapping at her naked buttocks, her skin wet and her hair lank from moisture. Jason felt as though he was intruded and quietly as he could he back off, but his presence had been noted.

“Do I offend your eyes?” The witch’s voice rang through very sharply and Jason stopped in his steps. Turned back he found her standing there, and he saw her womanly hips, he full breasts and her dark hair covering her lower region. He was rendered speechless. And struggled to find words and caught himself as he realised he had been staring too long and averted his eyes.

“No, I just am not in the habit of peeping on young ladies.” Jason said trying to be as curious as his brain would allow him to be. It had been a long time since he had seen a naked woman as access to such things in ancient Greece was not as readily available as using the internet and Jason didn’t feel comfortable looking at the pictures in the bath houses when other men where around him. However he tried to be comfortable in the ancient world, ancient sexual attitudes still eluded him greatly. Medea herself walked up to him closer and seemed amused by his sudden shyness.

“Other men wouldn’t be so modest. Who are you Jason of Atlantis?” She said staring through him with seeing eyes. Jason looked up at her careful to keep his gaze away from her body and instead on her face where a piece of hair was sticking to her jaw line, momentarily distracting him from her plump pink lips and dark gleaming eyes.

“I’m no one.” He said the lie heavy on his tongue. He couldn’t think she was intoxicating to behold and it distracted him hugely. She smiled and shook her head.

“I think not, minotaur slayer, bull jumper, traveller, hero… I think not…” She said turning away from, him walking towards her clothes and pulling on her leather trousers and lacing them slowly as Jason watched.

“Who are you then, my lady?” He asked slowly mindful of the sun’s weaning path. She smiled and turned to him, her shirt half on, with her breasts sticking out, nipple erect and dark.

“I am your future, Jason of Atlantis; the god’s have deemed it.”

These words echoed in Jason’s head as they made their slow way along the ledge of the valley following the small stream for earlier though now it twinkled in the moonlight. The water dancing like stars leading them to the city was like a star led story and Jason was suddenly reminded of the Christmas story which he quickly dismissed because though he didn’t know the date, he could almost be certain that talking about a prophet from Judea that would be brutally murdered by the roman’s probably wasn’t a good idea. He knew what capital punishment was like in Greece and didn’t want to go anywhere near the touchy subject.

Carefully the small group of eight headed down the valley only coursing minor stones to fall echoing around the valley. From outside the city all you could see of Atlantis was the town walls, the ocean close to the main entrance and the small tents of the slavers set outside of the city in preparation for the auction tomorrow. They weren’t allowed in the city but they might as well of been inside it. The city walls shone with eerie bluish grey echoing the push and pull of the tide. Along the tops of the walls where small fire lights, like small fire flies indicating where the guard watches were.

Medea led them along the eastern wall of the city carefully respecting the tree line of the forest which graced the mountains a mile from the city. Jason smiled to think that he and Pythagoras sometimes looked for herbs in this wood and he knew he would again.  
Carefully they drew their swords and walked carefully, darting from rock to rock for the mile distance until they were on top of the city itself. They went in groups towards the city. Medea went first with Gaius and Jason, then Hercules, Marcus and another man who had a ferret in his top pocket. Just as Medea came to the wall with her small group, Gaius tripped over fallen to the floor with a great thud. A shout suddenly went up on the wall. “Run!” Medea screamed her voice loud and commanding. The finale group of men bolted just as arrows rained from the sky. Hercules’ group scattered as well with Marcus and the man with the ferret running away from the city. Arrows caught them and soon only Medea, Jason and Gaius who were standing dead against the walls of the city where the only ones still by the city. Hercules had crouched low and was stuck hiding where he was. He could move or get to the city all he could do was wait.

Medea was breathing heavily beside Jason and seemed to be trying to find something in her bag; a triumphant breath came out in a sharp burst when she pulled out a vile. She pulled the stopper and muttered some words over it. She then tipped the potion on the floor and dew he dagger. Without any warning she took the dagger and plunged it into Gaius’ chest. The man fell forward as blood dripped form his mouth and chest and pooled around the space on the ground where she had just dropped the potion. Medea removed the dagger and drew a doorway on the wall. Before Jason could react in shock the drawn door way dripped down in a cascade of blood before turning clear and an entrance way appeared. Medea climbed through it pocketing the knife. Jason hesitated and shot a quick look to Hercules who was watching open mouthed. Hercules gave a quick nod and Jason pulled himself through the gap moments before the bricks reappeared and the solid wall appeared.

The city of Atlantis was very quiet on the inside. The soldiers on the wall had stopped firing arrows since they couldn’t see any movement and the street on which Jason and Medea now stood was empty, quiet and peaceful. Jason pinched himself before saying to Medea, “We just came in through the wall…” She rolled her eyes and nodded as though she was asked stupid questions all the time.

“Yes, we came in through the wall as you say. Do you have a dwelling in this place where we can spend the night?” She said looking around checking her dagger was back in its hilt. Jason nodded still staring at the wall which now seemed very solid. He knew magic existed in this world but had never seen it be used so openly, he thought it was just for priests and oracles.

“Jason, we aren’t safe here, we have to move.” She said slowly pulling his arm away from the wall. Jason nodded and started through the quiet streets towards the house he shared with Hercules and Pythagoras. He hoped Hercules was alright, trapped behind the rocks and that he would find another way into the city.

They moved through the dusty streets, past a few taverns where there were people drinking and laughing. They moved quickly and kept to the shadows as Jason noted that they would cause attention being dressed like they had just come from the desert. And he realised that Medea had more than one weapon on her person. They came to a narrow street with apartments that were three blocks high and unlike the other parts of the city they were all flat on the front without anywhere to hide. It was that moment when they saw the shadows of a patrol of soldiers coming their way. Jason didn’t think he just reacted. He pushed Medea to the front of one of the houses and attacked her mouth with hers. To begin with she fought him trying to push him away, her hands against his chest balled into fists punching him... hard. But once she registered that the soldiers were ignoring the kissing couple she relaxed slightly, though Jason was given the impression that she was allowing him to kiss her now, as she herself put no effort into it at all  
.  
Once the marching shadows had retreated they broke apart. Jason taking a breath out and he moved to continue on his way but Medea had a better idea and stopped him from moving where he was stood against the apartment front. She pushed the flat of her arm into his throat saying in a low and dangerous voice “Never touch me again, do I make myself clear?” She threatened and the pressure on his throat started cutting off his airway as he nodded in acknowledgement. Medea seemed satisfied.

“Lead on.” She commanded forcefully and Jason complied quickly moving out into the narrow street and towards the small flat where he lived. It took less than fifteen minutes but they seemed to drag as they walked in stony silence away from the buzz of the taverns and the calls of night ladies. Jason sighed out in relief as he saw the doorway up to the rooms and slowly led Medea up the stairs. Entering the small apartment was like coming home for Christmas, the familiar sight a welcome change from what Jason was starting to become used to. Their small kitchen was still as they had left it with three bowls still by the large bowl of water for washing up waiting to be done, a pile of fresh washing sat on a stall by the curtain of Pythagoras’ room. His bed still unmade and sheets messy as though he had stepped out to use the chamber pot. Jason was happy to be home. Though it felt empty and strange without Hercules or Pythagoras there, or maybe it was because of the strange woman who was standing beside him who had just killed a man to enter the city without any thought to what her actions might mean. Jason stood up a little straighter and made to make his bed quickly. “Erm… you can sleep here if you want?” He said unsure, quickly straightening his sheets and removing an old shirt that seriously needed washing.

Medea nodded and added “But I wish to go to the temple of Poseidon tonight first there is someone I must see.” She set down her dagger and small bag on the bed. “I wish to wash and then I will go.”

Jason stood there for a second before he realised that she meant for him to go and get some water. He smiled “I’ll go get some water then.” She nodded and Jason left her to make herself comfortable on his bed. Grabbing a bucket of water he headed out into the street and walked the short distance to the well. Drawing the water up he turned the handle to get the water up. As he was doing this he saw his neighbour, Old Alec, come up to the well with a bucket. He smiled and said hello. He finished his task as the old man put himself into position to get water himself. As he walked away the old Alec called after Jason. “Young Jason, when will Pythagoras be returning? I had a visitor looking for him not two days ago. Could you tell him when he returns?” The old man said. Jason nodded.

“I’ll tell Pythagoras when he returns, thank you.” And without another word he headed back to the rooms, guilt flushing his face over not wanting to discuss Pythagoras and his whereabouts. Back in the apartment he found Medea gone and only he travelling cape, he small bag and two hair grips were on the bed. It seems as though she had foregone the washing and had slipped out to the night to go to the temple. Jason thought about following her but instead he drank some of the water and took himself off to Pythagoras’ bed.

Lying on the soft material he wished he knew where the young mathematician was and whether he was still alive. The days up to this point had been a blur and Jason felt exhausted under the weight of them. Even though deep sleep eluded him he drifted in a light dreamless uneasy sleep for hours until he heard Medea return after which he fell into a deep sleep.

~~**~~

 

Medea slipped into the night. It was easy to disappear into the shadows of the nearly deserted town and make the short walk towards the large temple. The small roads, gritty and bumpy went under foot, they were slightly sandy and muddy, and occasionally she had to watch her foot to avoid the filth that city streets always acuminated. It brought memories back to her of long ago when she was a child and had come travelling to Atlantis from a faraway kingdom. She remembered thinking this city was huge, its towering buildings, busy blustering streets, the hundreds of new and unfamiliar smells and tastes on the air and they were all still here. She remembered the trips to the local market and finding it fascinating how people lived; the idea of being normal had been what she was interested in. She hadn’t until recently discovered she had been wrong. Being normal was not something to want. It was something to champion; to champion and be remarkable in the face of. Being a princess had given that birth right and she was now in control of how special and remarkable she actually was.

She came to the open court in front of the great temple and she paused. She let the grandeur of the building take her for a second and she was once again that little girl wearing silks and a garland of flowers going to pour her first wine to the god. Remembering herself she walked across the court assuring herself that she was stronger and had more purpose than that girl walking behind lesser men. Steading herself as she walked the stairs to the front of the temple she to account of the two guards beside the entrance to the pillared building and where the sacred fires were. She noted the number of steps at the front of the temple and the number of pillars to hide behind and to jump if needed. She checked the number of guards, there weapons and whether like the guard furthest to the left whether they were asleep or not. As she entered the temple she bowed to the statues of lesser gods and lit a candle as any person in the temple would. Over the candle she prayed and muttered a single command to sleep. She placed the candle on the floor at the front of the temple in the walk way and stepped over it, head still bowed in supplication. She stayed there until she heard a small crash of armour and turned back to look outside the temple where the two guards had fallen asleep. She took the nearest guard’s sword and walked back into the temple. As she entered she slashed the sword out to hit the lesser god’s heads and they fell to the floor. She continued towards the back of the temple and took her time in beheading all statues of lesser gods and took her time in making four cuts across the statue of the king. She then walked towards the main chamber where the statue of Poseidon was situated. Here she stopped and paused looking into the huge chamber.

The room was huge, the vaulted ceilings many meters above her, hiding in the darkness above her like the actual sky that the stars had been swallowed up by a dark creature swamping the heavens. This just added to the endlessness of the ceiling making it look like there was no ending just the endless darkness like that which they taught in lessons about the depths of hell, endless and dark. The tiny flames in the dark could do nothing to abate fears that little children often had in these places when they came face to face with an almighty god, who looked down upon them. Towering above Medea was the statue or colossus of the sea god. She looked up slowly looking at the craftsmanship of the stone work. When she was a child the giant feet and gigantic legs had scared her so that her mother had comforted her saying that the gods liked to be great in everything. But looking up the sandaled feet and marble legs and up until her vision couldn’t see any further up the torso and beyond into the darkness. The unseen god’s face looking down on her. She couldn’t see it but she knew that his eyes watched her. She stayed on her knees and prayed.

She prayed for her family. Her mother who she wished to see, her brother and sisters, her grandfather and her uncle of whom she knew would be pleased to see her achievements. She prayed for good fortune in her mission, she prayed for wisdom. And then she prayed for foresight after which she muttered words in the new language which she had been taught which was the language of the gods. Her eyes lit up with a ring of magic and a curtain behind her ripped in two. Medea turned and saw that by this curtain was an open doorway and a flight of steps leading downwards. Medea bowed her head and finished her prays before taking up the sword again and moving towards the dark opening.

Medea grabbed a torch and held it high above her head as she walked slowly forward down the steps, gripping the sword firmly in her right hand. The steps where ancient, hewn from the rock on which Atlantis stood and carved with care and reverence. Each step was worn with thousands of years’ worth of use. Each step was beautifully carved with decorated patterns starting from the side and issuing across the step. The far edges of the steps where still very clear in what they depicted but the middles were smooth from usage and Medea could no longer to see what the picture was. Medea looked carefully at the pictures the first was a man in a garden it seemed, the second him and a woman though the woman’s face was worn away, but her hair stretched out cross the steps. The next picture was the woman looking up at something, though this once again was obscured and only decorative pattern could be seen on the other side of the step. The fourth step showed the woman holding an apple but once again the other side of the step was longer decipherable. The fifth step showed the man and woman holding a fruit and Medea could see the outline of a tree on the other side of the step. The next step had a large hand and the two figures hanging their heads in shame, Medea wondered what they had done that was so terrible but the finale two steps of the staircase showed the consequences of their actions and these steps were the least worn away somehow. The seventh step had the picture of a man in a long robe standing outside a gate, he had a circle around his head and a long sword up his side, the right side of the image had the trees and paradise pictures of the first drawings but there were none on the left side of the step. The last carving was the most harrowing as it showed the man and woman at their labours. The man working in the fields and the woman grinding wheat for bread and on the left side of the carving was a hooded figure that watched on. Medea wondered what these pictures showed, whether it was something that had really happened, or a myth long forgotten carved on an ancient staircase under a temple long ago, maybe to be forgotten.

The staircase led down to a small chamber. Dust covered the floor and in the torchlight there were paintings on the walls showing more pictures of unknown stories that Medea didn’t recognise pictures of murders, floods, plagues, pyramids, and a man with two stone tablets. Quickly she moved past these depictions and moved down into the darkness where she found a small iron gate. She pushed it and found it wasn’t locked but creaked as it opened and up ahead she found a light source near the end of this tunnel. 

This tunnel was richly painted as well showing dancing paintings of blue creatures like the one guarding the gate on the steps but these looked like they were suffering. She pushed the images out of her head until she came to the end which opened up to a brightly lit chamber richly furnished. She walked out into it and turned back just to see the tunnel vanish into the wall. She pulled her sword higher and looked about in alarm. She suddenly heard footsteps and rushed to push herself against the wall and brandished her sword ready to strike.

Walking into sight was the oracle of Atlantis. She looked just as old as she had when Medea had seen her when she was a child and maybe the gods had granted her the gift of ageless appearance. She was wearing a single robe of black material and came to a stop just before the wall Medea had stepped out of.

“Princess Medea, I didn’t expect you here so soon.” She said without turning around. Medea came to her sense and stepped out suddenly more confident. She raised the sword to point at the Oracle’s back.

“And I’m surprised but not disappointed to find you still alive, Oracle. I promise you that I won’t be making that mistake again.” Medea said walking out to meet her words.

“I know why you are here and yet you use the ancient staircase to find me… are your intentions not pure young princess?” The oracle asked her tone steady and not failing, there wasn’t any tone of her being scared, phased or bothered by the sword placed directly at her spine; she acted as though this happened every day.

“I am no longer a princess, you saw to that old woman. But I have come to make sure that you won’t interfere with any of my plans, you see things are changing and not even you can for see them.” Medea said.

The oracle turned slowly around to face the witch and Medea let her. The oracle smiled “you have learnt nothing of patience or wisdom, the future is forever changing.”

Medea let out a short laugh. “You know nothing.”

With that she stretched out her hand and chanted, opening the wall up in a flash of red and when it was glowing like a torch she pressed the sword tip to the oracle’s chest. “In…” she commanded.

The oracle took one glance at it before stepping calmly into it. Medea followed suit taking one foot into the ring of red before she stabbed the sword quickly into the old woman’s chest.

The oracle gasped out, her shields cracked in surprise. Medea looked triumphant as she walked out of the red ring before waving her hand and the porthole closed.

“I want you to see my finale victory so don’t die too quickly.” She boasted and turned to leave just as the oracle croaked out between gritted teeth.

“What about Jason?”

Medea stopped in her steps. She turned with such force all the torches and flames went out. In the darkness Medea turned around in the oracle’s chambers and looked at the old woman trapped in the wall.

“He is of no consequence.” She said and with that she left by the stone stairs leading up and into the antechamber of the temple of Poseidon.

~~**~~

 

Telemachus walked into the play room as he had learnt to call it. It was still stiflingly hot in the tent, it only being early morning and Telemachus knew that the temperature would climb to unbearable levels. He moved on into the tent taking in the scene before him before he could continue on with his task.

The chains were still hanging from the tent, lopsided with one hanging down low towards the bed, some sticky substance made the higher one glisten in the low morning light. The sheets on the make shift bed were twisted and on them lay the curled up body of Pythagoras.

Telemachus cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known and the man on the bed curled in tighter on himself. He was in a terrible state. His back was covered in red welts and blackening bruises, his legs were bloody from where the restraints had bit and chafed his skin and the tops of his legs that could be seen from where the small covering of the sheet could be seen were both dripping in sweat, blood and semen, a disgusting and chilling reminder of what had happened here. Pythagoras had his arms thrown up shielding himself from unwanted touches and his wrists were in the same condition as his ankles, bloody and raw from the chains that still hung above him. His hair was sticky with sweat and other body fluid and Telemachus thought he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming just above Pythagoras’ left eye.

The young man came closer carefully and placed a shaky hand on the poor man on the bed’s shoulder. Pythagoras flinched so hard the entire bed shook; he then pulled himself tighter, with a whimper the poor man started to mutter and it broke Telemachus’ heart to hear it. The poor man was begging him not to hurt him. Carefully and respecting the man on the bed Telemachus spoke very quietly.

“Pythagoras, its ok I’m here to clean you up. I’m not going to hurt you.” He said in a measured voice which he remembered from when it was him in this position. The man on the bed didn’t seem to be reassured and continued to mutter and shake.

Telemachus knew it must have been a long night. Pythagoras had never returned to the holding tent and when he had asked the guards what had happened all they had said was that one of the new slaves was being broken in. Telemachus knew what that meant. His master was cruel and didn’t beat his slaves into submission, he humiliated them, took away their sense of self and made them feel like nothing and like they deserved anything that had happened to them. He twisted their minds into thinking they had asked for this treatment. It had been a difficult and soul destroying experience in which Telemachus could remember not being in control of his feelings or what his mind was thinking. He remembered it being isolating and terrifying. He knew that Pythagoras would be feeling terribly alone, uncertain of himself, those around him and of himself. Unfortunately Telemachus knew that only Pythagoras himself could pull himself out of this and it wouldn’t be easy. Telemachus still cried himself to sleep because it the treatment and Pythagoras was only at the beginning.

He tried to soothe the pleading young man and brushed his fingers lightly through his hair, trying to be as non-threatening as he could and very slowly Pythagoras calmed down slowly as he realised there wasn’t going to be a sexual touch or a harsh hit.

Telemachus took the wet cloth he had brought with him and dabbed it to the scared young man’s forehead to ease the bruising. Pythagoras kept his head down but when he did venture his gaze up it was one of tortured, broken stare like something had darkened his eyes. His face was very pale and the hesitating glance up was heart breaking as Telemachus saw tears in his eyes and for the spilt second Pythagoras did look him in the face, the young mathematician’s gaze was completely swimming with tears practically blinding him until a single droplet ran down his cheek. Suddenly the dam broke and with a shuddering breath out the young man fell into the young boy’s arm, trembling with great racking sobs that seem to engulf him. Telemachus just held him mindful of the privacy he knew that Pythagoras wanted but also the desperate need to shelter in the comfort of someone who wasn’t going to hurt him. Telemachus knew it was both very disorientating and the urge to run away and hide from everything could be over whelming. So instead he waited for Pythagoras to finish his sobbing and go back to silently staring ahead of himself trying to piece his emotions and thoughts back together. Once the sobbing had subsided Telemachus carefully cleaned Pythagoras up, gently washing away his hurts.

He started with the areas that were small and only needed cleaning away of the grime, sweat and tears like Pythagoras’ face. He gently cleaned down from his foreheads, over his eyebrows and eyes only pausing when placing Pythagoras into temporary darkness triggered something that seem to echo a flashback or response that Telemachus knew was part of this terrible affair. So Telemachus washed gently each eye in turn, carefully towelling it off afterwards. He cleaned the body fluid from Pythagoras’ mouth and neck, and then moved on to his chest. Cleaning down the sensitive areas around his bitten collar bone, his sensitive nipples that were still red raw and the long scratch marks which he made a mental note to put his healing salve on when he was finished. He cleaned Pythagoras’ arms, making sure to clean his hands well and even under his finger nails. He then instructed the frightened young man to stand.

This was the most difficult bit as he knew that he would have to clean the lower areas of Pythagoras’ body. So carefully he instructed the young man to his feet and re wetted the towel and gave it to Pythagoras.

“I need to you to clean yourself up, just gently and you can dry yourself as well. Unless you want me to do it, I’m not going to hurt you Pythagoras.”

Eyes full of unshed tears looked up at him, making his young heart fill with pity and sorrow. But the young man shook his head and reached out a shaking hand to take the damp rag from Telemachus. And slowly the young man washed himself, wincing in pain as the water touched sensitive areas. When Pythagoras stopped he reached gave the cloth back and accepted the dry cloth very wearily. He dried himself off but when he dried his behind he cried out and fell to the floor. Telemachus dropped with him as another wave of tears overwhelmed Pythagoras and he sobbed into his hands, full blown sobs racking the thin man’s body, leaving him shaking like a leaf and a ball of raw nerves lying on the sandy floor. Telemachus pulled him into his arms and tried to comfort him. As he hugged the young man he looked down and saw the clean dry rag and it was tinted red from where Pythagoras had dried himself.

Many minutes passed but soon the tears once again stopped and Telemachus got Pythagoras into a standing position where he quickly finished the job as washing down Pythagoras’ legs and feet. More blood, body fluid, sweat and grime came off on the rag but when he was done Telemachus was sure that Pythagoras had once again relaxed into a semi calm state to take the linen from the bed that wasn’t soiled and wrapped Pythagoras in the sheet preserving some modesty, the young man seemed extremely grateful for this. He held the sheet as tight as he could and followed Telemachus slowly, limping slightly, only gasping in pain occasionally. He followed, or would have if Telemachus wasn’t holding him up for fear the young man would faint and fall, causing more damage to himself. So Telemachus led him to the antechamber tent which had been Pythagoras’ sleeping quarters when Jason had been here. The four beds were still there neatly in a row. Telemachus ushered Pythagoras onto the bed on the end and made him sit on the edge and painstakingly he put the salve on the sores and open wounds on the young man’s body. 

When he had finished and the small whimpers of pain that issued from Pythagoras had petered out into harsh breaths, Telemachus just got Pythagoras to drink a cup of water and he mixed a little willow bark into the water to help the man with his pain. Once the water was finished he helped Pythagoras lay down and watched the man curl up onto himself, Telemachus made to leave the tent, when a hand came and caught hold of his tunic. He looked down to see piercing red rimmed blue eyes staring up at him.  
“Don’t leave…” Pythagoras croaked out, voice thick with tears, throat raw and unused but the conviction was in his eyes, pleading for Telemachus to stay. Telemachus turned back and nodded sitting on the bed beside the sick young man’s one.

“I’ll stay… try to sleep.” He said in a measured tone and this calmed Pythagoras down no end and safe in the knowledge that someone was with him and he wasn’t alone Pythagoras gave in to the darkness and exhaustion that had been threatening to overtake him but he hadn’t wanted to give in until it was safe. That drive and conviction now seemed to have depleted him and he surrendered to the dark.

Telemachus watched him slowly let go. He felt bad for Pythagoras having so much trust banked on him, because he didn’t want to shatter the man any more than he realised he might have to do. He watched a shadow circle the tent until the shadow found the entrance to the antechamber tent.

“Master.” Telemachus said bowing his head and falling to his knees. His master swept in, long robe sweeping the floor and brushing Telemachus where he knelt on the floor as the master walked to his latest purchase. He bent down and with a long finger decked out in golden rings he brushed the side of Pythagoras’ bruised face. The man did not stir though cried out in his sleep as though the light touch had slapped him very hard. The master pulled back his hand and turned to the boy on the floor.

“You are to wait with him until he wakes and then deliver him to my tent; I have other work for him to do.” The master said as he brushed past to exit the room. Telemachus frowned and spoke out.

“Are we not moving on master?” He said and this made the master stop in his tracks.

“No, my little prince, I have instructions to wait until I hear more. Plans have changed.”

“What about Pythagoras, sire? Now Jason has escaped.”

The master turned back and pulled Telemachus up by the throat, exposing it. “As I said, little servant prince, plans have changed.”

 

~~**~~

 

Hercules couldn’t move his foot. It had long since gone dead and was still trapped between two rocks. Hidden in the rocks in front of Atlantis and between the desert and woods Hercules was concealed very well from the prying eyes on the walls of Atlantis and from anyone from behind coming from the woods. Unfortunately this meant that he couldn’t be seen to be in difficulty. So Hercules knew he would be getting his foot out by himself. The night was bright, the moon was large and silver floating in the sky. The goddess Diana smiling down on all through the beams of the large moon, full and beautiful shimmering larger than any star in the sky, seem to make the sky dance as Hercules glanced upon it. No wonder there were so many tales about bewitching things that happened under the moon as it was less harsh than the bright yellow of the sun and was tranquil expressing peace and quietness across the night. Hercules soon realised that the guards on the walls had dissipated and gone about their duties leaving the dead men for the morning guard to depose of.

The scenes of the early night trickled into Hercules’ memory as he remembered Medea stabbing the thief in their company like he was just an animal, a carrying device for her proposes. He had started over the past week to sympathise with the witch in the company. She must have been lonely and her aggressions and hostility was a clear symptom of her isolation and Hercules had given her space and had felt she was beginning to open up and share, become part of the company she had assembled and felt more welcome. However this wasn’t to be. They had all been tricked so they would be cannon fodder for when the time came for her to go to Atlantis. She had played them all and Hercules did not like feeling betrayed. He wondered what Jason was doing, or for that matter whether he was still alive being so pulled through with the scheming witch. Maybe she had killed him for his blood as well?

But Hercules wasn’t to know, crouched in among the rocks. So he tried to get comfortable because he knew he could do nothing while it was still dark and he was currently in a safe place hidden from view. So he leaned back and tried to get comfortable and wait for daylight. But wherever he lay he foot protested and there was nothing for it but to get the foot out of the rocks.

Stretching and pushing only jammed it in further so Hercules opted for the twist and pull method. Carefully as not to dislocate anything he twisted his foot very slowly to ease it up while applying pressure on his ankle to keep it moving. It was painful and a sharp white hot pain was building slowly in his ankle and Hercules stopped before he got to the breaking point. Resetting he tried a different method and tried pulling the rocks apart with his hands while he pulled his foot. It helped a little but now the pressure was further up his foot. Wincing in pain and setting his teeth, Hercules pointed his toes and pulled his leg while pulling the rocks apart as best he could. Gritting his teeth through the pain and ache he gripped and pulled and like that his foot was free. Breathing out in relief Hercules checked the damage. Apart from a bit of skin that was missing and a trickle of blood and tenderness he was reactively unhurt. Hercules elevated the foot slightly, he remembered Pythagoras telling him that wounded limbs should be raised to help blood flow. So carefully he reached out and in his hiding place balanced his foot higher up on the rocks. Then he placed his hands behind his head and tried to drift off to catch some sleep before the sun rose. He watched the stars through the rocks and tried to remember each name and god they were meant to represent but he couldn’t he knew that Pythagoras knew. Maybe next time he and Pythagoras watched the stars he would stay awake long enough for the names to sink in. And with that thought of Pythagoras explaining the consolations and how to find the plough, Hercules went to sleep.


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter time shifts between character points of view but they will catch up with each other.

Chapter 4

Sunrise is a beautiful thing. First the dark sky turns lighter, softening the harsh navy blue of the sky to a light blue that the closer to the horizon it gets the whiter and brighter it gets. Then the orange of the day from the golden orb that is the sun spreads across the sky and makes the world’s misty dimness vanish, before the brightness of the sun breaks the horizon and casts its light across the day getting steadily brighter and brighter, shadows of filtered light bouncing through the air and telling the world it is time to awaken. Hercules watched the sun hasten to start the day as he awoke and through his heavy eyelids registered that he had to enter the city soon and find Jason and the witch of whom he had escaped into the night with. Hercules roused himself and slowly made his way from his hiding place, across the rocks and out around the side of the great city towards the main gates.

It must have not been as early as Hercules had guessed as the gates of Atlantis and the area in front of the city was bustling with hundreds of people. The plain in front of the city was awash with colourful tents, pens with animals in them, and pens with the unfortunate slaves that Hercules had been trailing; it was a fantastic sight to behold but Hercules knew he had to make his way through the crowds. Smoke billowed from small fires and the closer Hercules walked to the camps and market place the smells of food, animals and incense candles filled his nostrils. Hercules couldn’t remember in seeing the markets being this packed before and he decided to have a look around before he headed into the city.

The market was laid out in an unorganised fashion with clothing stalls with fantastic silks and woollen weaved blankets beside food stalls that had roasted fruit, honey and dates, nuts and bread produce like buns and small cakes in a wonderful mix of simple food and extravagant products. Hercules brought a few dates and a small piece of bread for his breakfast from a few coins he found on the floor. He knew Pythagoras would not of approved but he realised he was very hungry from his exciting and overly stressful night of sleeping out of the city walls.

The further he walked into the market the more things he saw. More stalls of food such as cheeses, meat, pies, fruits and vegetables that he had never seen such as a yellow fruit that was long and curved and could be eaten in three forms, green, yellow and black. Hercules tried a little of this fruit the seller was giving for free and was surprised by the taste though as it wasn’t as horrible as it looked; all yellow and squashed. Another stall had little cakes that were covered in honey with nuts and figs and Hercules was saddened that he had spent the money on the bread and dates as they looked wonderful. Further through the market the stalls not selling food caught Hercules’ eyes. Stalls selling furniture, sun dials, cooking pots, musical instruments, writing equipment and Hercules felt sad as he realised that Pythagoras would have used some of his hidden money (of which Hercules knew it was in the willow bark pot under Pythagoras’ bed) to buy some more quills and ink to write his ideas about maths down. The thoughts of Pythagoras in his head very slowly and hating himself every step he headed towards where the slaves were being sat out for people to see them before the auction.

This area was quieter than the food and goods area as many people in Atlantis did not approve of slaves and only the extremely rich among them had slaves. No slave traders were allowed in the city of Atlantis because of an incident about ten years ago when many children kept disappearing and a visiting slave trader was caught with sixteen young boys chained together ready to be taken to Helios to be sold. Since then they weren’t allowed to enter the city gates so their customers would have to come to them. But still every so often a trader would come and it always attracted other sellers and a huge market. They would stay for a few days and then leave. Hercules passed quickly looking for Pythagoras’ face among the thin, dirty and scared people sitting in the pens. He passed the group of men who were to be sold as domestic servants and checked quickly but carefully. Hercules had thought that Pythagoras would be in this section of slaves as he knew Pythagoras could read and write both in Greek and had a basic knowledge of Egyptian and the new language that many traders spoke in when they came to Atlantis something, that if Hercules could remember correctly, that was spoken by the people from Rome. But try as he could Hercules couldn’t find the face of his friend anyone in the group of slaves. So he quickly looked at the male slaves that were to be sold as warriors or gladiators and like he expected nothing. Almost to the point of despair he walked down the aisle of slaves that was completely deserted of people wishing to buy.

Unlike the areas for domestic slaves or gladiators where people would take their time looking either to consider buying or to just look at who they could bet on the next time they held special games, this area was utterly empty. Hercules knew that it was because this area was for those who the slave traders knew where too weak and frail to use in anything apart from to be sold to a mine or a school of gladiators which needed people to send to wild animals. Hercules wished to not see his friend in this area because it meant nothing good. These slaves where never fed or cleaned and disease was rife through the poorest slaves. Many where to left to die and judging by the foul smell that issued forth from the small area it seemed as though some one had. Hercules looked at the thin faces and concluded quickly that Pythagoras wasn’t there. He turned to leave but as he did a small hand grabbed on the bottom of his shirt and Hercules turned.

The owner of the hand was a small woman. He was extremely dirty and had long straggly dark hair and huge cut across his face. But her eyes sparkled, her voice cracked as she spoke but Hercules heard her loud and clear “Who are you looking for?” She asked.

“My friend, Pythagoras.” Hercules said gently trying to move so she let go of the shirt but she held on all the tighter.

“Pythagoras isn’t here, he was sold. I think…” She said, and Hercules looked at her hope filling his face. “Yes… sold… Jason he went after him… came for him…”

Suddenly she was coughing and a bit of blood fell down her chin. It was a horrid red to the white paleness of his face.

“Thank you.” Hercules said and tried to pull away. He knew that coughing up blood meant that the woman was dying of an incurable disease and there was nothing he could do and he had no money he could spend to ease her suffering. He felt useless and wished to could help her.

The coughing died down and she said in a measured voice “Go save your friend and know he isn’t in this dreadful place.”

With that her grip slackened and she slumped down exhausted in the pen, Hercules watched her not move for a few seconds until he realised that she too had died. The others around her retreated back but Hercules from years of surviving plagues and disease knew that it was probably too late for these unfortunate souls who had been in confinement with her. He knew how unclean conditions and little food, water and exercise meant diseases were likely to happen. Quickly leaving the slave areas and heading out into the markets Hercules tried to forget about the dying woman and focus on Pythagoras being alive and out there somewhere. At least he hadn’t been sent to a mine to work until he died. Hercules walked past all the stores and heading into the city of Atlantis were the market spilled into the city. Stalls along the streets sold smaller items and more food unlike the luxury items that were outside. There was even a town crier telling the people that there would a storyteller later telling stories of faraway of a war that raged in the east between two great cities and a siege that had lasted ten years. Hercules shook his head he knew that sieges didn’t last long as the people inside the walls usually died of hunger, thirst or disease. So instead he made his way up the streets along to where he, Jason and Pythagoras lived. The streets were quiet and as he walked up to their little apartment he was relieved that the idea of being home felt very welcoming. He pushed the front door opened and walked in and stretched his arms out. It was good to be home. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone hiding in the little room of the side of the main living area that was were Pythagoras slept. Carefully Hercules closed the door and picked up a small knife that Pythagoras used to sharpen his stylus with from the side table and turned just as he saw a flash of black hair try to dart behind him. He turned and raised the small knife but was startled to find that the person with her hands shielding her face from his attack was none other than the princess of Atlantis.

Ariadne had her hands across her face in a protective stance but Hercules could see her figure nails were broken and scratched. She was wearing a brown cloak over all her bright pink dress and she was bare footed, her hair was dirty and she wasn’t wearing any of her usual jewels. It seemed as though she had been hiding and was trembling with scared tremors. She hadn’t moved when Hercules had frozen but instead she was still cowering in front of him. Hercules quickly out the knife on the nearest table and said softly “My lady?”

Ariadne looked up over her hands. And the scared look in her eyes softened. She let out a sigh of relief. “Oh Hercules…I’m glad to see you.” She said in a tried voice.

Hercules was slightly taken aback but offered his hand to help her from the floor and led her to a chair. “My lady do you want a drink, I could go and get some water…” He began but she raised a hand.

“Hercules we have to leave Atlantis.” She said quickly looking through the open window as though expecting something or someone to come through the open space with a large knife. “We have to leave Atlantis before it is too late.” She said her voice low in pitch and sharp with urgency.

Hercules nodded but he looked confused as he had questions of his own. “Should we wait for Jason? I was expecting him to be here.” He said but the look of panic that crossed Ariadne’s face was enough for him to stop his question in mid-air. Ariadne cleared her throat and in a quick whisper said “Jason cannot help us, Hercules we have to go…”

Hercules nodded and looked about, the apartment offered little in supplies so he considered his next moved. “Ariadne…” he tested using the princess’ name for the first time and when she didn’t tell him off for addressing her so informally he continued. “We must get supplies if we are to go out into the woods that surround the city. I have nothing here but give me half an hour and we can be gone from the city.” Ariadne nodded and reached into her cloak and gave him two small silver coins.

“Please hurry they may already to looking for me.”

Hercules didn’t question her but took the money (the most money he had seen in years) and set off to get bread and dried fruit and wine for supplies. “Please make yourself comfortable.” She nodded and looked around the small flat.

As Hercules reached the door he heard a small voice say “Please hurry.” And with that he walked through the door and out into the market places again.

Quickly to went to the smaller stalls and brought a few loafs and bread, two pies and a flagon of wine. As he was looking at buying figs and apricots the city guard came through the crowds and the leader gave the town crier who was advertising the silks one merchant was selling to a large crowd, a small scroll and which the man took and read before loudly saying that the guards where to search every house for the Princess Adriane who was wanted to crimes against the crown.

The crowd were shocked but as the speaker said the words a cry went up and suddenly there was fighting as the crowd couldn’t believe that the princess could have done anything against the crown- she was the crown! They yelled and chanted that it was a joke that wasn’t funny until more soldiers appeared and a full on riot started.

Hercules quickly grabbed his food and thanked the stall owner. He rushed back as the riot was starting to get worst with the soldiers fighting back the crowd. Hercules reached his apartment and slammed the door closed.

Ariadne looked out from behind the curtain she was hiding behind. But one look at Hercules’ face she knew something was wrong. “What’s happened?” But Hercules quickly pulled his supplies into a bag and grabbed a cloak as well.

“We need to leave…now.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

 

*

 

It was still dark when Jason was awaken by a creeping sound. The floorboards in the flat he shared with Pythagoras and Hercules had always creaked and popped depending on temperature and whether someone was walking on them and Jason was now finely attuned to them. So he knew that someone was sneaking around in the room behind where he was sleeping. His foggy brain supplied the answer that it was just Pythagoras getting some water or Hercules trying to be quiet when he fell home drunk and happy. But as he listened to the steps they were different to any he had heard before… his mind suddenly reminded him, dragging him from sleep that it was Medea and that Hercules had been left outside the city stuck between two rocks and Pythagoras was at the mercy of a slave trader after his failed attempt to escape as Jason had. Stringing up he quickly stood and turned to the witch who was sneaking to the front door.

“Going somewhere?” He asked in a medium voice; not loud enough to wake anyone but clear enough to startle the warrior witch from her path out of the flat.

Medea didn’t look that annoyed with him waking or trying to stop her, she did though look annoyed that he was now holding her up. Instead she placed a hand on her weapons, a new sword hung at her belt and Jason wondered where it had come from. “I have business in the city.” She replied to his question and turned to leave.

Jason couldn’t let her go, that answer wasn’t good enough anymore not after last night. Not after the blood doorway and the escape from the Atlantis guards and the awkward yet dazzling kiss that made Jason wish for more and want to follow this woman wherever she might go; Jason needed answers. So he pulled on his half chest armour from the floor by his bed and grabbed his sword as she watched. “What are you doing?” She asked as he finished with the buckle on the armour and armed himself.

“I’ll coming with you. You said you needed a guide in the city. So I’ll take you to where you need to go. Call me your bodyguard.” He said finishing arming himself and heading for the door.

Medea didn’t look impressed but after scanning him with her eyes she relaxed her posture. “Ok, but no asking questions.” She said and opened the door for them both to exit from.

Jason couldn’t stop himself and the question on his lips was out before he could stop himself. “Where are we going?” He said and Medea’s eyes narrowed dangerously to the question but none the less she answered him.

“We are going to the palace. I have business there.” She said as they walked down the steps. Jason paused for a second, long enough for the door to shut in his face.

This was crazy, he thought to himself, this woman would completely mad, what sort of business could she have at the palace of Atlantis of all places? But the thought was passing and he rushed down the steps after her catching up quickly. They walked through the deserted streets as the light started to climb and illuminate the city in a blue glow as the sun peaked out from behind the far off horizon. As they travelled through the town stalls were beginning to be put up in one part of town as they passed without words and a few people said a brief good morning to Jason as he passed by. Jason nodded and replied in kind while Medea walked in stony silence beside him, never making eye contact and acting like all the people around her were beneath her. Jason realised the only person who was like that in public, in his experience, was Princess Ariadne especially since her father had died and she was the soul ruler. Jason had always thought Ariadne looked at everyone like that because she thought herself isolated from the others and didn’t know how to react to normal people after years of having to look at the top of peoples’ heads who were bowing down. Medea just seemed to think she was beyond everyone and they were beneath her.

They continued on through the city until they reached the walls of the inner city. The city of Atlantis had a ring of outer town where Hercules, Jason and Pythagoras lived, like a suburb cycling the richer inner of the main city and inside a smaller town wall, which Pythagoras had once told Jason was the ancient city of Atlantis, was the main temples and royal palace. The town itself was set slightly higher on a slightly raised area overlooking the sprawling suburbs and shabbier dwellings. Through the small gate they passed still in the dawn light of the morning and the watch man on the inner city walls paying them hardly any notice. Jason reckoned it was because his shift was nearly over and the only people who came through the gates this early in the morning where those heading for the temples that littered the slightly larger streets of the ancient city. So Jason felt no worry about walking with a heavily armed woman through a guarded gate.

Once through they took the main road up to the palace gates. The road was lined with shrines and posh villas and apartment buildings all with tiled roofs and a few with guards at the doors. Jason knew this was where the elite of Atlantis lived. Senators and the richest of traders lived in these houses as well as retired royalty from other cities lived in these houses and turning back to look out from this high point in the city Jason knew why. He could see down across the plain of desert that led out from Atlantis and down to the distant sparkle of the sea. He could see where the woods bordered the city on both the left and right and he could see the market that had camped out by the slave camp beginning to move in the early light of day. It was a beautiful sight to behold only made more beautiful by the sight of Medea with her sharp lines and firm body against this fantastic background. The morning light just caught her hair and gave her the look of a goddess. Jason wanted to tell her but felt it wasn’t the place.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

One moment he had been pining after the princess of Atlantis and dreaming of her and her beautiful soft face, her rich ivory hair and dark chocolate eyes, her petite figure, strong legs and perfect breasts and the next he was following another beautiful woman without any thought to Ariadne except how she walked like she was better than everyone else. Medea wasn’t like any woman he had ever met. She was strong and wilful, powerful and resourceful. She was driven and was obviously touched by the gods. He could do things he had never seen anyone do and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. It didn’t matter that she had killed many men and was ruthless as she did it; she had reasons to kill those men and she couldn’t be blamed, Jason told himself. He knew he was falling for her fast and he couldn’t explain it but he knew he was going to protect her because she was the only woman for him.

Medea herself didn’t seem to notice the effect she was having on him, nor his internal confusion and stopped for breath at the top of the slope just before the entrance to the royal palace. She surveyed the scene in front of her and quickly looked at the slave camp far below. It would soon be dawn properly and she knew that now was the time for her plan to start coming together. She gestured at Jason and together they continued their way to the palace gates.

There was a guard of soldiers patrolling the gates and two guards standing to attentions in front of the gates themselves. Jason wondered how Medea was going to get into the palace; would she just kill the guards like she had before? But no, instead she walked up to the front of the gates which made both guards cry out “halt!” at her but she kept walking until she was directly opposite both guards and the huge gates. Jason stood behind her, his hand reaching down to rest on his sword that was still strapped in his belt at his side. Medea just smiled at the two guards and looked at both of them in turn then pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at the guards’ eyes. Both men stared back at her, fixated on her as she dropped her hand to her side. They just stood there as she flung her hand out and her eyes flashed red.

The huge gate of the palace flew open as though it had been hit by a huge force like a battling ram of some type. And Medea stepped into the courtyard on the other side, calmly and collectively. Jason looked stunned, so apparently they were just going to walk into the palace, he shouldn’t of been surprised less than twelve hours ago he walked through solid rock by just the blood of an innocent man. So he followed Medea into the palace courtyard and made his way to walk just behind her.

Jason had been to the palace before but both times he had been with others and only for public occasions. Seeing the palace when it was during private times felt wrong, like going into a school during holiday times. There was a large pool in the middle of the courtyard with a single servant cleaning it with a net. As Medea approached a change came over the young boy and he fell to his knees in a bow as she passed. Jason watched as two more servants followed suite as they walked into the palace. They walked up some stairs and along a long corridor which had statues of small gods and one had some pot plants on a low stall. They walked through another courtyard. This one had plants along it and a fountain that sprinkled water lazily and made the small courtyard fell like a garden, an oasis in the sandy desert. Then they passed into a small reception area were a few guards were. Medea then turned to one of them as soon as he had gone to his knees to bow. “Bring me the leader of the palace guard.” She said. The man had bowed and left very quickly as Medea flung open the doors at the end of a small hallway open with a flash of red in her eyes.

They had found the throne room.

Jason watched from the doorway as Medea walked very carefully in and seem to take her time in walking up towards the golden throne veiled with cushions and drapes. She was taking it all in, Jason realised every bit a princess.

When she reached the throne she sat very carefully upon it, almost worried it would burn her if she sat down too quickly. She recovered from this quickly and signalled for Jason to approach. He stood in front of her until she signalled for him to stand at her right side.

“Jason you must stand there, for I need a champion I can trust.” She said all regal and powerful from the throne she seemed born to sit upon.

“Thank you my lady…” Jason said but was cut off as Medea laughed.

“I am not your lady! I am your queen and will be addressed as such.” She said and Jason bowed low.

“I’m sorry my queen.” He said almost stupidly. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. How had this witch just walked into the palace of Atlantis and claimed herself queen. There hadn’t been any fighting and no one was objecting but every time Jason thought this was wrong his brain wouldn’t function and his mind clouded over in a red mist remembering only his kiss with Medea.

It was like he couldn’t function this close to her and wanted nothing more than to be close to her. Medea herself just smiled as he called her queen and rose to stand in front of him pulling him up by his chin. She leaned in to whisper in his ear “I’m sure you can make it up to me later.” She said and sat back down on the throne just as the captain of the palace guard came in.

He looked angry and had drawn his sword but as he approached Medea stared at him and pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at his and mere steps from the throne he fell to his knees and placed the sword in front of him like he was praying with the weapon. Medea lowered her hand.

“Majesty.” He said still from the position on the floor. Medea gave a quick signal for him to stand. The captain put his sword away and waited with his hands behind his back for Medea to speak.

“You are to find the princess Ariadne and depose of her, whatever it takes. Go to her room and make sure the screaming is minimal.” She said almost lazily. The captain nodded and bowed again leaving the room.

All Jason’s mind could supply to him was that they were going to kill Ariadne, he had to help her. But he couldn’t move. He could only watch as Medea gave more instructions to another man and he stood stupidly beside this woman who at this moment he both loved and completely hated. The fog from his brain had momentarily lifted to see what was actually happening. Medea was usurping the throne, she was bewitching the throne and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it.

But as soon as the fog lifted it was back and Jason cried out in frustration because he suddenly couldn’t think. But there the goddess was sitting on a throne of gold. Jason had never felt more in awe of someone.

The captain of the guard returned with a small group of soldiers and he was breathless. “My Queen Princess Ariadne’s bed hasn’t been slept in and no one has seen her since yesterday when she went to the temple of Poseidon.”

That seemed to anger Medea as a vase in the corner of the room shattered without any warning flinging pieces of shiny glazed pottery shoot across the room, some landing at Medea’s feet.

“I want you to find her.” She practically screamed standing up quickly and angrily. “I want you to take the entire guard and find her, I want you to search every house, every tavern, and every shop, close the city walls and bar access to temples and baths. Find her and bring her to me!”

Medea stormed her eyes a dangerous red colour and Jason wondered what else had broken because of her rage. Getting up from the throne she glared at the soldiers who were standing there. “Go now! Find her!” She said and they all bowed and almost ran from the room leaving Jason and the witch alone in the room.

Medea was incredibly rattled. Someone must have warned the princess, it was the only reason she wouldn’t have returned to the palace. Then it hit her. The princess had been in the temple of Poseidon and she must have spoken to the oracle. That old hag had ruined and hindered her plans. How could she be so meddlesome? Medea took a calming breath, the old woman was slowly dying in a dark prison where no one could reach her, and she wouldn’t change any more of her plans. But Medea was now fearful. With Ariadne alive things may not play out the way Medea wanted them to.

Taking a vile from her small bag that still hung from her belt she prayed over it and walking to the centre of the room she smashed the vile on the hard marble floor as her eyes flashed.

The liquid from the vile spread out in a circled shape and settled in a round oval as she looked into the mirror she saw princess Ariadne and a boy she did not know sitting by a camp fire in the woods, she saw a flash of herself and Jason in an intimate embrace across the altar in the temple of Poseidon, and then she saw Jason standing in front of both her and Ariadne holding a bloodied sword in front of him. The visons ended and she looked at Jason. He was standing still by the throne but his eyes where fixated on the liquid on the floor and there were tears in his eyes. Medea needed to meditate and reflex on what she had just seen. Too many questions now clouded her judgement. How could she not have seen the oracle’s warnings and their true meanings? Who was the person in the vision helping Ariadne in the woods? And most of all, why was Jason so important and had featured in all her visions since she had met him and before? It infuriated her no end that this boy of no consequence was a deciding factor in her plots and schemes. She looked at the man standing tears dripping from his face and she felt almost sorry for him. The spell she was using to control all of the men and woman in Atlantis was a control spell but Jason seemed to be also under its influence in a different way. This confused her and she didn’t know whether it meant that fate had been changed because of it. Suddenly the need to be alone was too much and she ran from the room. It wasn’t until she was in the little garden courtyard when she realised that Jason hadn’t followed her.

 

*

 

Both Hercules and Ariadne froze at the knocking at the door.

One knock, then two… Hercules quickly signalled by flapping his hands at Ariadne to hide behind the curtain and she went quickly and quietly.

Hercules called out quickly, as he stowed his supplies behind the table “I’ll coming, I’m coming…” quickly brushing himself down and pushing two knives down onto the floor with a quick clanging sound. Hercules turned to the door and opened it, ready for the army of soldiers to turn his house over and then recapture the princess and capture himself. Dread filled him as the door swung open to reveal instead of the soldiers and palace guards with their swords and spears, his next door neighbour Old Alec.

Hercules let out a sigh of relief, his entire body relaxing as he let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he had been holding in. The old man looked at him confused but it did not faze him and when he recovered he said to Hercules “Have you seen Pythagoras?” 

Hercules let out another sign and shook his head. “We met a bit of trouble in the desert and I don’t know when Pythagoras will be back.” He said simply. Old Alec nodded but his brow had furrowed like he was confused.

“But you and Jason have returned, I saw him last night…” So Jason had been here, that explained a few things but where was he now and how was he not running to the young princess’s aid? Hercules recovered quickly.

“You know Pythagoras, always one to get more supplies when he can.” This seemed to put the old man’s mind at ease as he nodded in acknowledgement. Pythagoras was known for trying new remedies for healing and sometimes cooking and the poorer members of society did come to the young genius for help sometimes. The old man took his stick and poked Hercules in the stomach, “Well when you see him tell him he had a visitor and I have a parcel of things for him.” And with that the old man hobbled off leaving Hercules staring at the empty space between the door and the stairs.

What was in the parcel and who was the visitor? Alec hadn’t been very forthcoming so it must have been a visitor that he didn’t approve of, though Hercules realised that not many of their house guests many people approved of… Slowly closing the door Hercules tried to focus his mind on the task in hand.

They had to leave the city.

A small voice was whispering a warning urgently from Pythagoras’ room behind the curtain. “Hercules!” Ariadne obviously had seen something and she wasn’t happy about it. He entered the curtained off room and found Ariadne looking out of the window towards the street and being lined up outside in a line were the protestors who had fought against the soldiers. They were being forced to their knees in a line in the middle of the street while the people of the town were being kept behind a line of soldiers, some of whom were family to those who had been rounded up.

Facing the main gate they were about twenty people all forced to the floor and the captain of the guard held up a whip and proclaimed loudly that the penalty to though disturbing the queen’s peace and that of Poseidon was to receive twenty lashes from a whip each. The crowd around the little group of individuals cried out in frustration and more fighting broke out.

From their hiding place the princess and Hercules was statue still. Until Ariadne reacted first “We have got to help them” she said and boldly started to make her way to the door. Hercules jumped out of his momentary frozen state and rushed in front of the princess.

“Now, don’t do anything rash my lady, we have to leave or this new queen will just kill you first.” He said planting himself between her and the door. She didn’t look impressed.

“But we have to help those people!” She said, eyes wide in disbelief as she couldn’t or didn’t want to leave her duties to her people. Instead Hercules grabbed her arms and held her tightly.

“We have to get out of here. You can do the heroic Jason thing later. Bad things are happening and that display out there is the beginning. We have to go while we still can.”

This seemed to pacify her slightly though Hercules could see that look that Jason often gave when he was thinking about right and wrong and how at some point he would make a break for it and do the heroic thing in the first place. Hercules let go of Ariadne’s arms as she nodded and grabbed another brown cloak to wrap around him and picked up the supply bag. Ariadne took her brown cloak and wrapped her head in the cloak like she was going walking in the desert. Together they walked out of the apartment and down the stairs into the still busy street.

Taking a quieter route through the back of the crowd, the two tried to get to the front gate of the city. Many people were still coming and going to the market that was outside of Atlantis and through the chaos they got very close to the gate using the walk ways to the town walls. But as soon as they got almost to the front of the crowd who were heading out of the town, more soldiers than Hercules thought the city had poured on to the scene and started herding people away from the gates. There was screaming, crying out as families and groups were separated. A bell tolled somewhere up towards the centre of the city to mark midday and the more soldiers seem to appear from somewhere. There was a scuffle in the front as suddenly the great gates of Atlantis closed. The great wooden doors, slamming with huge force like they had been pushed by a huge giant who was irate with anger, Hercules couldn’t remember a time when the gates had closed so forcefully without hundreds of men pushing them. Ariadne stood next to him and like the crowd around him just stared. Something bigger than the peoples gathered in the now closed off city was at work here and a strange silence crashed across the crowd punctuated by whispered panicked mentions of certain gods and that the city was doomed. Hercules personally thought it had nothing to do with the gods and more to do with a certain witch now proclaiming herself the queen of Atlantis.

“This couldn’t have been the gods could it?” Ariadne said as the crowd started to move, pushing the gate to get out of the city. Hercules shook his head. “Not gods, magic…” He said grimly and the crowds started to push more from the back. Ariadne gasped as she was forced against the man in front of her, she was very small and soon found it difficult to breath. They were being crushed as people pushed against the gates. Hercules grabbed on to Ariadne and pulled her sideways and through the crowd, he used his natural strength and his large statue to push through pushing sideways to reach the edge of the crowd off to the side along the wall. His arms were scratched up on one side where he had been forced into the rough brick of the walls of Atlantis. Ariadne breathed out harshly when they reached an area less patched with people. Her checks were red and she had black bags under her eyes indicating oxygen loss but she nodded and Hercules pushed themselves along and away to a quieter street. Here it was quieter with less people but the huge walls of Atlantis towered over them. There wasn’t an entrance at this point of the city. They walked along the walls and pass where an exit used to be but long since blocked up. The blocks of stone discoloured and ill-fitting but packed so tight nothing could breach it expect maybe the odd rat. They were trapped. Ariadne sat on the edge of a door step to gain her breath and looked up at Hercules, thoroughly miserable. “We are trapped aren’t we?”

Hercules nodded and looked around to where they were. Atlantis was a big city and the lower town was forever being changed due to the overturn of population through deaths, births, migrants and immigrants, plagues and the constant stream of traders. You never knew what to find in this part of town. It was also prone to the odd fire that would wipe out half the buildings in a street in a day and then they would re build them looking completely different, so it took Hercules a few minutes to figure out where they were. Getting his bearings Hercules realised they were in the old lower town and he remembered stories of passage ways out of the city which came from here. But he couldn’t remember whether they were real or just myths and legends that he had heard in his youth.

They took a route further into the old lower town. The buildings here all hap hazard and the streets weren’t as straight. It had the feeling of a place that had seen a lot of history and each house were different but in character and design. This area was very quiet as everyone was watching the horrific spectacular by the front gate. “How are we going to leave the city?” Ariadne said in a low voice as they stood hidden from view in the mass of carts and empty jars. Hercules scanned the street from his view point.

He had been hasty and now they were in the open and vulnerable. Looking about he tried to find some way out but all that caught his eye was the well in the middle of this area. He crossed over to it. It was a large ancient well, made of stone, moss growing up the inside but the bucket had fallen in years ago and it was crumbling down on one side. By the side of the well was a set of steps which Hercules guessed that once they led down. Ariadne was still looking out and rushed over as she said in a high pitched squeak “Someone is calling and I think they are guards, we have to hide!”

Hercules didn’t think he reacted and pushed the princess into the well and onto the steps hidden from view. He didn’t think about how to get out of the well if it didn’t led anywhere they just dropped onto the ledge coursing half of it to collapse and stood extremely still pressed up against the damp insides of the ancient well. Hercules felt very itchy could feel something tickling his back, a spider perhaps or maybe a plant of some type but as the footsteps above them became loudly they daren’t move and Ariadne held her breath. There was shouting above them but soon the footsteps get quieter and vanished disappearing into the distance. Ariadne let out her breath and looked down into the black water and up into the white sky. There was no way she would be able to climb out as there was no way Hercules could. They were trapped, stuck like a spider in a water bowl, unable to go up or down. Ariadne would have sat down if there was room. Hercules beside however wasn’t looking at the sky nor the water below instead he was looking at the walls around them. They were lucky that it was midday and the sky was bright today and hot because it illuminated the sky wonderfully. Suddenly Hercules was moving making Ariadne hold onto the wall tighter as Hercules jumped to the other side, from where Ariadne was looking she couldn’t see what Hercules was standing on and it had looked to her like there was nothing there and she had thought he was jumping at nothing. He landed with a thump, slightly lower than she was and she couldn’t see his feet in the bright light.

“Hercules what are you doing?” She said in a shaky voice. Hercules smiled up at her.

“There is a way down, come on jump.” He said. Ariadne looked down and pushed herself back to the wall. What if Hercules was wrong and the ledge was shorter than he thought and it collapsed? Ariadne never thought she had a fear is falling or heights but right this second she was evaluating that option.

“It will be fine this ledge seems very sturdy.” Hercules said and gave it a little jump; it didn’t collapse or crumble and this helped Ariadne a little as she edged away from the well’s walls. Praying for her life she took a deep breath and jumped just to the right of where Hercules was standing. She felt her hands hit the wall and scrap her palms down the slippery surface just as she realised her feet hadn’t hit the ledge Hercules promised she gave a hit pitched scream.

She fell faster and further down she looked up very quickly for Hercules’s hand which missed by mere inches as she fell into the darkness.

Everything happened so fast. One moment she was jumping, falling and then she hit solid stone.

She looked up to see a staircase of ledges that were staggered around the well. From here she could see that Hercules had another three to go to get to the one she was now on.

“Ariadne!” Came the cry from above.

“I’m ok, there are more steps, you need to follow them down!” She called up. She looked into the darkness below her to see a few more steps before they flattened out just below her and stopped; perhaps that was the bottom?  
“Ok I’m coming down” Said the cry from Hercules above her as she mustered the courage to jump down the last few steps.

They both reached the bottom together and looked into the darkness. Hercules looked for something to make a fire with and together they mocked a torch up from the hem of Ariadne’s dress, a broken bit of wood and some string from Hercules’ pack of supplies. Lighting the torch was tricky but it seemed that Ariadne had some survival skills that she had never told anyone of and that included how to light a torch from a flint and rock. It took serial attempts and in the darkness it was much harder to get a spark and see whether she was actually rubbing them together properly. But finally a flame was made and the tiny amount of hair she was using caught fire and was used to get the rags from her dress alight.

In the flickering light of the tiny torch in the side of the well a little away from the ledge they were standing on was a low doorway, partially flooded with murky black water. It was richly carved with images of beautiful woman on one side with flowing hair, curves and flowing hair all dancing and singing and on the other side demons with wings, horns and pointed teeth leering and staring at the ladies and high above the doorway were rich carvings of various gods high above the scenes.

Where this doorway went to was unknown but both Hercules and Ariadne knew they had to go into it or rot in this well. So jumping down into the murky water that spilled over the doorway from the well below they climbed through the doorway and vanished into the darkness with the flickering torchlight.


End file.
